Weaver's Fate
by NinjaYacdan
Summary: She was near, he could feel it. She'd led him on a long, hard chase, but he wasn't called the best for nothing. It was only a matter of time, always, a matter of time. He knew she was no base prey, the men she'd killed during her attempt at the life of local nobility were far from amateurs. Even for him, she was dangerous. Yet nothing he wasn't willing to handle… for a price.
1. Chapter 1

**NinjaYacdan here; This is something I've been working on for a while and finally got past the Blurg guarding the dungeon and keeping me from posting it. You'll notice it's not another run through of canon with a little perspective spice thrown in because honestly, I find work like Forged Destiny and Hunter or Something more interesting because I'm not anticipating events like the Breach or the Fall of Beacon. This is something different, same characters and general world, but I've scrapped Aura, Semblance and Faunus for reasons of making something new. You'll notice subtle callbacks to canon traits, but that'll be about it. So, in the interest of not speaking over my work…**

She was near, he could feel it. She'd led him on a long, hard chase, but he wasn't called the best for nothing. It was only a matter of time, always, a matter of time. He knew she was no base prey, the men she'd killed during her attempt at the life of local nobility were far from amateurs. Even for him, she was dangerous. Yet nothing he wasn't willing to handle… for a price.

The dying light of the setting sun forced him to stop; he'd lost sight of her faint trail. No matter, he'd other senses, honed and ready to bear. Breathing deeply, he meditated… slowing his heartbeat… and returned to his primal self. When his eyes opened, his inner beast was awake and ready. He took the scrap of cloth one of the guards had managed to tear from her as she ended him and breathed deep her scent. Strange, that jolt he always felt as that scent took hold of him…

He knelt and sniffed for traces of her. He wasn't delayed for long, she'd brushed against a nearby shrub. As his blood set aflame, he resumed his hunt…

…

Just what had that tyrant sent after her? No matter what she tried, she couldn't lose that strange man. She'd leapt between trees, she'd swam, she'd used every trick her grandmother had ever taught her, yet still he kept gaining ground. She would have to stand and fight, very soon, but she knew that, whoever this man was, he was worlds apart from anything she had ever fought. The way he moved… was like water and lightning and fire, all captured in flesh…

…

Her scent was growing stronger, faster than he'd anticipated. The beast within grew eager, the chase nearly over, the quarry nearly at hand… Strange, why did his blood sing with such energy at her proximity…?

…

She stood at the ready, her blade, Miló, in hand. Whoever this man was, he was in for a nasty surprise…

…

Her scent was strong, very strong. The beast within shivered, a jolt setting his hair on end, ringing through his nerves. He crept slowly forward, peeking between foliage, and felt lightning strike as he saw her standing in the clearing beyond, looking straight where he was concealed. Silently, he shrugged off his pack, drew Crocea Mors, and stepped proudly into the clearing…

…

She spoke no words, only stared down this strange man that had so hunted her to her limits. The intensity of his gaze hit her like a rockslide, the raw bestial power of him setting her heart fluttering and her breathing ragged. Whoever this man was, she was right to have run as hard as she had. Though he stood still, she was mesmerized by the harmony, and grace of his form. Her skin tingled with lightning, her muscles trembling in anticipation…

…

His every fiber was stretched tight. The fire in her eyes setting an inferno in his blood. He held his stance and kept his breathing even. His eyes locked with hers, lightning tearing him apart within…

…

Her wrist flicked, the air rippling as Miló began a dirge…

…

Something was wrong, very wrong. The world tilted as a hum filled him from every direction, his head began to spin when he saw her surge forward with blazing speed, a thrust aimed at his heart. He flicked the tip away and swung a hard punch at her throat, which she gracefully twisted and rolled out of his reach to evade, then flicked her wrist to renew her bladesong.

Dipping his hand into his coat, he withdrew a poisoned dart and flicked it at her neck, only to see her catch it between her fingers and flick it into a nearby tree trunk, smirking at him. Lunging forward, he clove downward with his blade, watching her coolly while the sapling she'd stood before slid neatly to the ground as she regained her footing, again, out of his reach, with that infernal hum filling his bones and the inferno behind her eyes burning him to a crisp…

…

She darted in close, blade whistling above her bladesong as she wove a web of steel, trying in vain to pierce his hide, desperately fending off his own blade that took slivers from Miló at every touch. Finally, she locked blades with him, each striving to pierce the other's defense, then pushed off, rolling out of his reach, then twirled Miló to hone the tune of her bladesong before joining him anew in their dance of death and steel.

His intensity set her hair on end, his speed and power, astounding, his every move forcing her to dodge or die, his defenses impenetrable, every near miss almost crackling with lightning, his scent setting her heart racing. Why was she so… mesmerized… by the near invisible tells, the flexing of his muscles that betrayed his next move? Why couldn't she stop trembling in his presence, though she could fight at this pace for days? What was this hunger that grew with every near miss as he resisted her bladesong as if she were playing a lullaby?

Suddenly, a tremor she couldn't stop ran through her, his blade snapping upwards, catching the hilt of Miló and sending her twirling out of her reach as his foot slammed down onto hers, locking her in place. Time slowed as his blade swung towards her neck, her hand darting out, fingertips pressing against the flat of his blade, knocking it out of course as she bent like a reed, evading his strike.

She grasped her knuckles in one hand and drove her elbow into his ribs with such force, a crack resounded through nearby trees as a growl rumbled from him. As his blade swung towards her again, she twisted her head from its path, slammed one hand to the inside of his wrist as her other slapped into the back of his hand, knocking the sword from his fingers. Catching the pommel with the back of her hand, she launched it well out of his reach, then rammed a palm thrust into his jaw…

…

Cornering this fox was a worse mistake than he'd bargained for. Even disarmed, the world tilting hum filled the air and threw his every sense into chaos, let alone how much it sapped his strength. Odd, how it also strengthened his inner beast in ways he'd never known, how it did not hunger for victory… only… Her…

In a moment of strangest clarity, he knew what he wanted, and relented with an inward, 'Why not?'

…

What was the matter with her? All she could notice as she pummeled him was how blasted hard his muscles were, how the wind from his right hook seemed to almost kiss her cheek, how, no matter how hard she swung, she just didn't feel she was hitting him hard enough… How that wolfish growl rang through her every bone when she slapped the rib she'd cracked in him, how she relished being like smoke to his grasping hands, despite her trapped foot, that merely gave her better purchase for her own strikes.

Suddenly, she felt his arm snake beneath her armpit, wrapping across her back, his hand grasping the hair behind her skull, then the deep, aching moan that tore from deep within her as he sank his teeth into the base of her neck, and the sound of ripping cloth filled the air…

…

…

…

The warm sun roused her gently from her slumber. Large, strong arms pinned her gently to a broad, warm, muscular chest, a deep, rhythmic breathing keeping all the dangers of the world at bay. Eyes closed, she sought her lover's kiss, lightning crackling through her when she found his soft lips. Suddenly, lightning struck again as she remembered last night!

In a flurry of motion, she wrestled free of his embrace, snatched the largest remnant of what was her shirt to cover herself, tore Miló from where she stuck in the ground and stood, trembling like a leaf as he sat up, still dazed from being roused from sleep and looked at her, uncomprehending.

"St-stay away from me!" she shouted at him, then twirled and fled as fast as her legs could carry her…

…

As her lithe form flitted between the trees and away from him, the memory of last night returned. "…oh."

This didn't happen often, but Beacon Law was very clear on what to do when it does…

"I've a lot work to do…" he groaned as he flopped back to the forest floor. "And I am not looking forward to it…" He laid a palm across his brow. "Not… One… Bit…"

 **Okay, the whole 'pinned to a tree at the first chance' might not have been as subtle as advertised, but seriously, she was remarkably forward in marking him as her territory in canon. Critique, hatemail, fanmail, and general "I like it, ANOTHER!" can be conveyed to me via reviews. NinjaYacdan signing out until Thursday 8/30/18 and we'll see where this goes.**


	2. Chapter 2

**NinjaYacdan here; I'm going to post Tuesdays and Thursdays to balance giving you guys the content you want regularly without burning myself out. Now, please keep in mind that RWBY, RWBY Chibi and all characters and properties therein belong to Rooster Teeth and the late Monty Oum. Please, support the official release.**

"Pyrrha, you shame me. You have shamed me, this village, and yourself!" Glynda was livid. Her own granddaughter had, without hesitation or permission, decided to play judge and executioner, with mere footprints 'round the body of a murdered village girl as evidence. Had run off, shirking her responsibilities and finally returned, days later, naked but for a scrap of cloth, carrying only her blade Miló, without her scabbard, and was walking with the odd stride of a woman freshly mated!

"I had no choice, Grandmother, you know that Lord Schnee wouldn't believe us over his own men." Cassandra knew, very well, how much trouble she was in, but that didn't stop her from defending her actions, despite knowing she faced exile at the very least…

"So you went and slaughtered grown men like pigs!"

"That's what they did to Penny! Justice needed done! I only killed the men that killed her and I did so with them facing me, blades drawn. I never even scratched an innocent!"

"Oh, that makes it all better! You only killed three men based on footprints!" She paused, watching her granddaughter's face. "Why are you walking as if you mated just last night? Just what else were you doing while you were gone?" She was shocked to see her granddaughter's defiance melt into tears of confusion and frustration.

"…just as I ended the last of Penny's butchers, a bounty hunter, or… something… arrived. Lord Schnee offered him half his gold for my head. I ran as hard as I could, used every trick to evade pursuit you've ever taught me, but he never lost my trail. When he caught up, we fought.

"He was like nothing I've ever faced, Grandmother. His every move, like water, lightning and fire, captured in flesh… He ignored my bladesong, he fought me to a standstill… then he… bit me and…" She could feel heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered just how much she'd enjoyed what followed. Then, a huff of laughter snapped her to the present and the odd smile on her grandmother's face.

"Oh, my child, sometimes, our bodies make no sense at all." With a sigh, she turned serious, "I think, we should ask the village what we should do with you…"

…

As he approached the castle, the guards flinched at the sight of him and moved aside, until he grabbed one by the collar and demanded, "Where. Is. Lord. Schnee?"

…

As the physician finished binding his cracked rib, Jaune leveled a glare at Lord Schnee, "Two women, on my way in, still showing marks from Russel, Dove and Sky. You've seen the marks yourself, she could have killed me, yet here I sit, despite her knowing I had accepted the bounty you'd set. Whoever she was, she was no cold-blooded murderess."

Lord Schnee returned the glare. "You know me. I would never allow such conduct from my men. That following morning, seven women came forward. All repeatedly brutalized by the same three." He broke his glare and heaved a sigh, "Jaune, you know I am a friend to Beacon, a keeper of Peace. You know that, had I known, none of this would have happened. Please, you're the only one I can trust. Find that village, and bring me whoever leads them so we can negotiate for peace."

…

A full week had passed, yet he still hadn't come for her… Why did that comfort hurt so much…?

…

"Either you are a very inept assassin, or a very rude messenger." Jaune stepped from the shadows in the Glynda's cottage.

"My apologies, Madam, I know this is… unusual, but only you can know I was ever here. Now please, if you want peace, you must come with me now. Arm yourself if you wish, no one wishes you any harm and will hold no grudge for your doing so."

Glynda turned a warning glare towards Jaune. "Boy, if you knew just who you were speaking to, you would find an army a pale comfort compared to the threat of my empty hands."

"Then let us hurry, there is much to discuss and little time to do so."

…

As they leapt between trees towards the castle, Glynda asked, "So, lad, why the secrecy?"

Jaune groaned, "There is one of your number that cannot know I was involved here."

"HAH! So, you're the one!" Glynda's cackle rang through the trees.

Jaune growled, "Madam, this entire incident is humiliating, could you please not spill this particular detail before Lord Schnee?"

Glynda chuckled, "Oh, I think it's done the lass a bit of well needed humbling, too. However, my silence comes at a price…"

…

As she paused, the village butcher hefting the buck she'd brought from her hunt from her shoulders, a voice rang out. "Pyrrha?"

"Yes, Octavia?" She continued towards her cottage to store her bow and arrows, Octavia catching up and matching pace.

"Would you mind describing your mystery Hunter to me?" At Pyrrha's odd look, she shrugged. "I'm curious."

"Well… he's tall, has dark brown hair, broad shoulders… and… he… moves, like a force of nature… It's like watching a far-off storm, such… power and grace…" She heaved a sigh as a pang of longing tore through her.

"And a stomach you could wash clothes on?" Octavia asked with a mischievous grin, earning a frustrated growl from Pyrrha.

"Is there a point to you asking this? If I ever see him again, it'll be when he kills me, not-"

"Claims you like a wild beast, perhaps?" Sending Pyrrha's every fiber rigid.

"Burst into flames and die." Pyrrha suggested, then walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Octavia to her cackling fit of laughter.

…

"You know, I happen to be available." Yang suddenly purred, twirling her hair. "You could do much better than a woman who's blatantly ignoring you."

"Yang, who are you talking to?"

"Your mystery hunter, he's behind you." Lightning crackled through Pyrrha as she spun to look, only to feel her heart crack at the empty space.

"Yang, that wasn't funny."

"He ducked 'round the corner, go look." Yang looked pleased as a cat with a canary.

"Ha. Ha. You're very funny."

"All you have to do, is look 'round that corner and reunite with his throb- "

"Shut. Up." Pyrrha stormed away, the heat rising in her cheeks.

…

As she walked past, a snarl from Octavia sent Pyrrha rigid as a plank for the third time straight.

…

"What was the Necromancer's name again?" Dew asked with a mischievous grin.

"Bob!" Ruby chirped, Pyrrha rolling her eyes at them both as she ate, her sisters resuming their tale.

"Right! 'As the mighty Hunter entered the crypt of Dread Bob, he drew his massive sword from-"

"A Spatha is hardly massive, Dew." At the very least, this silly little legend had some originality…

…

As she passed, Pyrrha returned Dew's warm smile, then, "Good morning Pyrrha, good morning Handsome." She should have known…

"Shut up, Dew." She chimed, ignoring her sister's laugh.

…

Pyrrha sought the refuge of the only one who hadn't taunted her. At the least, she could count on her blood sister not to jab at her sore heart. "He's standing right behind you." Nora vehemently snapped.

Betrayal, sharp and cold, burned in her heart, "No, Nora, he's not."

"Pyrrha, have I ever lied to you?" Her earnest eyes and tone twisted the dagger.

"Doesn't matter, I'm not falling for that one again." Seven times in a row was humiliating enough…

"Pyrrha, just turn around." She almost did, almost.

"No." She set her lips against the quivering.

"Pyrrha..."

"Nora."

"Turn. Around."

"NO!"

Leveling a glare past Pyrrha's shoulder, Nora growled, "You're being a jackass!" Stood, and stormed away.

…

Why did she have to look after Nora's footsteps had faded? Why did such a large part of her have to fall for that one every single time? She slumped into a chair in her cottage, rested her elbows on her table and laid her brow onto her palms, desperately holding the tears in check.

She didn't need this, for a whole week every single one of her village sisters seemed intent on voicing every base desire of her treacherous body. The taunts ranged from playful snarls that sent her rigid as a plank, every single time, to grand, romantic tales of how he had arranged the Blood Alliance between her village and Lord Schnee, despite the obvious fact that it was her grandmother's work all along, to simply flirting with her shadow!

She dug her nails into her scalp and growled, "Get. Out. Of. My. Head!"

"What if I like it in there?"

 **NinjaYacdan here; Ye Olde speech is Ye Olde. I know it's odd to think of RWBY characters speaking with 14** **th** **century grammar, but I just love writing it so it's here to stay. Especially considering I've already written 14 chapters. (Buffers make life easier) As for other breaks from canon, all ladies named above have been Gingerella'd (if not already ginger) because plot reasons you'll get later. I understand the foundational point of Yang is to represent the color Yellow but she's a ginger now because spoilers. Speaking of out of character blondes and more specifically Jaune keep in mind this tale takes place when the core cast is in their 23/24 year mark. He's earned his levels in Badass.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Tis' I, the frenchiest fry; Posting an extra chapter this week because I'm looking at some extra free time this weekend and boredom invites Blurg and that bastard can eat arsenic for all I care. So, in the name of momentum and creativity here's more Weaver's Fate.**

Pyrrha froze, a voice like cool water to her parched soul washing through her. She turned, gasping as the sight of him struck her like a wave of near frozen water. It was really him, leaning against her doorframe. He was taller than she… She'd fallen out of her chair. Right in front of him. The corner of his mouth turned up as the heat rose in her cheeks.

Scrambling to her feet, she stammered, "Wh-wh-I-um…"

"That's wise to say." A smile that sent her heart fluttering spread across his face as she bumped backward into her bedside dresser.

She drew a trembling breath, gulped, then asked shakily, "How long have you been standing there?"

"About a week."

She could have died. "A week."

"Rarely further than this." He said, indicating the distance between them, his smile reaching his eyes. Dignity was now a fond memory.

"H-How much-"

"Every word. Almost."

Her knees were pudding, she leaned against the dresser. "So… When-"

"All you had to do, was trust your sisters and look 'round a corner, or behind a tree and this reunion would have happened much sooner." He pushed himself away from the doorframe, that blasted intensity setting her breathing ragged. As he took a step forward, a jolt of lightning crackled through her every nerve, freezing her in place.

"Stay back." Another step.

"Why would I do that?" Another.

She gasped, "I'll fight you." He took another step.

"So be it." Another.

"You wouldn't win this time." She murmured as he rested his palms on the dresser, trapping her between his arms, lightning nearly crackling in the air between them.

"I recall, it being a draw." He breathed into her ear, then smelled her neck, her back arching towards him.

"It's been weeks…" She gasped as he smelled the exact spot he'd bitten her.

"I've been busy." His thumb traced the back of her hand.

"It was you, the Blood Alliance, Lord Schnee…" She gasped again as his lips whispered along her jaw.

"Yes." Lightning held her fast as his lips caressed her neck.

"Why didn't..." Her thoughts shattered as his arms wrapped around her.

"I thought it funny, your sisters' teasing you." Their lips met, setting an inferno that consumed them long into the night…

…

…

…

As they lay tangled in her bed, Pyrrha sighed, "What's your name?"

"Jaune."

Her soul drank the word. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" His lips caressed her hair.

"Mend everything?" He shifted his arms to hold her closer.

"It's my life to clean up messes, both violent and political." She nestled her face into his chest.

"…Is there another reason you did it?" Drawing a deep chuckle from him.

"You're trying to get me to say something, it's not working."

"Just three little words?"

"Not saying it."

"Those aren't them."

"Live with it."

"Wrong again."

"We just met."

"True, but still wrong."

"Not feeling it."

"Liar."

"Your chase continues."

"Not. Anymore."

"My back's bleeding."

"Very funny."

"No, really, look." Untangling himself from Pyrrha, he sat up and twisted to show her the web of scratches across his back and shoulders. He felt her finger whisper against his arm, then winced as she drove his sweat into a deeper scratch.

"Serves. You. Right. Now, let me patch you up." Pyrrha picked up his shirt and slid it on over her head, then went to her cupboards and began collecting healing herbs, along with her mortar and pestle. After dropping a few leaves and other things into the mortar, she climbed back onto the bed and sat behind him, grinding the ingredients together. After a moment, Jaune felt an odd tremor in the air, then relief as Pyrrha delicately dabbed the salve into one of the scratches.

"Good salve."

"Thanks, it took some time to perfect it." She kept spreading salve into scratches, Jaune nearly sighing in relief. "Now, let's see that rib." She began unwrapping his rib, when he stopped her.

"It's fine, I've already seen a physician." Drawing a look from her.

"Oh, really?" She poked his cracked rib, drawing a cringe and pained wheeze from Jaune. "It's fine?"

"Not… Quite… Healed… Yet." He managed through clenched teeth as she removed the linen binding his rib, revealing the deep, splotching bruise.

"First off, if the rib had broken clear through, wrapping it would have made things worse, so it's often better not to wrap it at all. Now, breathe." She laid her ear against his chest, listening to his breaths. "Good, now, hold still." She picked up her mortar and began dabbing salve onto the bruise, Jaune closing his eyes in relief.

"Heavens, that salve is a miracle." He felt her kiss his rib, a ripple ringing through the room, and his rib stopped hurting. His eyes snapped open, the bruise was gone, he pressed his hand against his rib, it was whole. He gaped at Pyrrha.

"What?" She squirmed under his gaze.

"How did you do that?"

"It's a minor healing Weave. Every girl in the village can do it." Nothing to earn the awe in his voice…

"I've never heard of anything like it before."

"That's because we are the only ones that can Weave, young man." Glynda's voice rang out, sending Jaune scrambling to cover himself. "And, quite frankly, it's time we stopped hiding."

"Madam, a bit more warning would be-"

"Lad, at my age, you've no secrets I've yet to learn." Her eyes darted toward his concealed groin, then smirked at Pyrrha's growing blush, "lucky girl."

"Grandmother, if you'll excuse me, I may crawl into a corner and die, now."

"If you do, you won't be able to join him when he leaves." She said, pointing to Jaune.

"I beg your pardon?" Jaune looked to Pyrrha, then back to Glynda. "You mean, for her to join me?"

"Same words, different order. Lad, you know, very well, the good our little village can do. You've also seen firsthand how very helpless we are not. How you seem to handle Lord Schnee leads me to think you've no small amount of familiarity with nobility, that's useful. Also, judging by how enamored Pyrrha is of you, you're no weakling in combat, either. Oh, don't give me that look, girl, you've mated him twice." Pyrrha's blush reached her neck.

"Grandmother, if there is a way to further humiliate me, please don't try to find it." Suddenly, Jaune's finger whispered along her jawline, shattering every thought, her eyes closing of their own will.

"What if I tried to find it?" He purred in her ear.

"Find… Wha?" Pyrrha gasped as his lips whispered along her neck, lightning ringing through her every fiber, holding her fast as his lips met hers…

"I suppose I'll leave you to this, then."

Pyrrha clamped her hands over her eyes and growled. "I hate both of you."

 **NinjaYacdan here; So, the title of this story? Pyrrha and all other female ginger characters are called "Weavers" which is the in-story jargon for "Witch." Yes, I could call them witches, but I find that term has too many ingrained negative connotations in modern culture. As for Glynda being a naughty granny instead of simply a strict disciplinarian? Humiliation is an effective punishment when utilized correctly. That or the idea was too funny to resist, draw your own conclusions.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome back. I hope you like exposition.**

"So, when you said your life is cleaning up messes, how did you mean that?" She continued tending her herb garden, Jaune working dutifully beside her.

"I am member of an order called, 'Beacon.' Simply put, we are peacekeeping mercenaries."

"So… You charge people, to keep them safe?" A chuckle rumbled from Jaune.

"It's not quite that way. Many us simply roam the land in a set yet shifting pattern. If we find a situation, ranging from highway robbers to a simple lover's quarrel, we restore peace in the gentlest manner possible. Sometimes combat is the only way, most times we manage a situation without resorting to steel. Sometimes, we happen upon a situation, other times, we are sought out. When we happen upon a situation, we work for the sake of peace and accept the satisfaction of peace as payment, when sought out, we charge depending on the severity of the measures needed to restore peace." He resumed pulling miniscule weeds from among the herbs.

"When Lord Schnee offered you half his gold to kill me?" She delicately harvested several leaves from various plants, replenishing the stock she'd used healing Jaune.

"That was an extreme and double-edged case, yes. In that case, there were obvious signs that violence was necessary to ensure peace, and Lord Schnee felt great enough urgency to place that large a bounty on your head to ensure the task was done." He sighed, "It isn't a perfect system, mistakes are made, but, it is better than having a standing army that requires taxes to maintain and can be turned on the populace at a moment's notice. If we are not needed, we roam and live off the land, keeping our skills sharp should we ever be needed." He took the pile of weeds he'd pulled and set them gently in a basket for a village girl to feed to hens.

"Do you ever tire of it?" Pyrrha waved over her niece and handed her the topped off basket.

"The violence, or quiet spans between?" He scratched at the belly of a puppy that had come to play.

"The quiet." She giggled as the puppy playfully bit at Jaune's fingers.

"The quiet is everything I fight for, so, no." Suddenly, a musical tinkling made Jaune sit stock still, his spine straight, as a crystalline crow swooped gracefully in, and landed on his head. He held out a hand, and the bird spat up a small scroll that Jaune unraveled and read aloud. "'Lady Fall has contracted for the presence of Huntsmen Ark and Belladonna, she fears assassination during her birthday party. Collect usual security bounty.'"

Jaune held his right fist before the crow, which pricked gently at the back of his hand, drawing a small droplet of blood, which Jaune then pressed into the scroll, vowing, "'Let our blood be shed, so other's may not.'" Then rolled the scroll, and fed it to the bird, wincing as the bird pushed off from his scalp and flew away.

"…What was that?" Pyrrha asked as Jaune stood, dusted himself off, then helped her to her feet.

"Courier crow, a relic of a lost time. It's how Beacon ensures we receive a contract." He led the way into Pyrrha's cottage. "Since you are not a Huntsmen, I doubt Cinder will mind your tagging along, seeing as you don't charge for your services..."

…

"What would they expect of me? At the party?" Pyrrha continued collecting herbs from her various jars, wrapping them in cloths dyed a variety of colors.

"You? Nothing, you'll be my guest. What they'll expect of me, is to keep an eye on absolutely everything, entertain guests with tales of my adventures, smell the food constantly to, hopefully, guard against poisoning, and lob the occasional fruit at Blake's head to assure everyone we are, in fact, Huntsmen."

"That sounds odd." She gently wrapped her mortar and pestle in a large, soft cloth and packed it into a satchel. "Why would you lob fruit at her?"

"It's a show of power, reflex and precision, you'll understand when you see. How wide a variety of wounds can you treat?" He eyed the volume of herbs she was bringing along, despite Cinder's region being a mere two days walk away, and was almost glad she insisted on carrying them, herself.

"I've been taught healing Weaves for everything from scratches, piercing wounds, poisoning, mindbreak, I even know how to reattach limbs, within reason." She belted on Miló, then hefted the satchel to her shoulder. "Why did this Lady Fall ask for you and Huntsmen Blake?"

"We were friends before she was elected Noble." Jaune hefted his pack and held the door for Pyrrha.

"She wasn't born Noble?" Earning her an odd look from Jaune.

"…Just how isolated has your village been?"

She shrugged, "Considering you've never heard of us, despite our abilities? Very."

"Nobles aren't born, Pyrrha, they are elected, based on competence. When a group, be it village, town, or city, requires a leader, they first ask for 'Suitors', one's that seek the position. Then, the assembled populace proposes hypothetical problems for said Suitors to solve. Depending on how just, graceful, and moral the answers, the people decide if the Suitor becomes the serving Noble."

"How do you mean, 'serving Noble'?" They bid farewell to the small gathering at the edge of the village as they passed.

"Nobles don't rule, they serve. While they serve, they receive no salary, accept no gifts of any kind, and are only allowed advisors relevant to the problem at hand. Every problem the people do not, themselves, solve, the Noble is required to. It is not meant to be a position of ease, though it is one of honor and comfort. The serving Noble is quartered in comfortable, often grand, arrangements, then practically every care in their region is placed squarely on their shoulders. They are allowed rest only when they have solved all problems or retire. If the people are not satisfied with their service, they are forced to retire. If they turn tyrant, Beacon steps in to restore peace, usually resorting to extreme measures." Jaune paused for a moment and sniffed, finding the trail he'd left on his way in.

"Why extreme measures? And if Nobles receive no salary, why would Lord Schnee have gold to offer as a bounty?"

"Tyrants are rarely conductive for peace. However, we haven't needed to resort to extreme measures-regularly- for quite some time. As for Schnee, he was a merchant before he was elected, somewhat against his will, I might add." He chuckled, "A story for another time."

…

"I have to know, why did that crow land on your head?" Earning a bark of laughter from Jaune.

"To catch our attention. As for why it was made of crystal? As I'd said, it's a relic from a lost age. Somehow, they made a lightweight, living gem that heats up, violently, when pressure is applied. Try to grab it, you lose fingers to the burns. Strike it with iron, it unleashes a shockwave that knocks, cold, everyone within a stone's toss. They don't eat or sleep, can fly faster than an arrow and have even saved my life a few times by crashing into an opponent at full speed. Very handy." Jaune spotted a fleeing hare from the corner of his eye, dipped a hand in his coat and flicked a dart at the hare, piercing it just behind the skull.

"Wouldn't that knock you out?" She waited as he walked over, picked up the hare and dusted it off.

"Somehow, no. It's always, however, an impressive sight."

…

"Why is Cinder having a birthday party? Taking liberties of her position?" Pyrrha took a pinch of tinder and rolled it between her palms, a tremor rippling as a flame wisp sprouted to life, then dropped it onto the pile of firewood, giggling as the wisp grabbed and voraciously gnawed a twig.

"It's not actually her idea, her people are having a party to celebrate her birthday. She's served them well, attacking every problem as if it was a mortal enemy, and, because of her, the region has flourished." Jaune finished tying branches together and set the tripod over the fire. "What is this little creature you've made?"

"A flame wisp, isn't she darling?" Pyrrha reached into the building flames and tickled the wisp's chin, the wisp turning blue at her touch, smiling. "If Cinder's served so well, why does she fear assassination?"

"An old political rival. If someone believes they can serve better than the current noble, they issue a challenge, the people pose their questions and choose whomever they prefer. Her rival often answers questions better than Cinder, but, the people have seen Cinder's results and choose her time and time again. As months and rejections passed, Amber stopped taking her losses gracefully and is rumored on the verge of violence. We haven't yet stepped in because, yet, there have only been heated words and arguments settled on the spot. Really, I think Cinder just wanted to see Blake and me again." He set a brass kettle half full of water over the campfire, then started cleaning the hare he'd killed earlier.

"These darts you throw, what are they made from?" Pyrrha plucked the dart from the hare's neck and turned it in the light, admiring the dark, heavy metal.

"We call it 'wolfram steel', we only know that the Grandmaster of our order forges them, and keeps a plentiful supply ready at all times, along with a comprehensive assortment of other weapons and tools." He dropped the hare's meat into the kettle, rinsed his knife and fingers, then started cutting vegetables.

"I don't see why you aren't letting me cook." She drew Crocea Mors from its scabbard to examine the curious blade. "Gold? How? It's so light and strong!"

"You can cook tomorrow night." He dropped the vegetables into the kettle and stirred. "We call it 'mythril', it's actually a coating on the steel of the blade. The blade is actually two metals, mythril plates with a wolfram steel core sandwiched in between and the golden layer you see wards off rust and weather."

"Tomorrow night we'll be dining at Cinder's manor." Pyrrha twirled the blade in her hand, marveling at the balance. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the flame wisp out of the campfire, trying to grab some dry pine needles. "Ah! Back in the rocks with you."

"What a shame, that was your turn." He chuckled as the flame wisp slumped her shoulders in defeat and tromped back into the circle of stones 'round the fire. Stooping down, he grabbed the pine needles and handed them to the wisp, which beamed at him.

"So, I've another question." Pyrrha piled more wood on the fire as Jaune stirred the pot. "Since Huntsman are the watchmen of the land, who minds you?"

For a time, Jaune was very quiet, a chill creeping into his bones, before whispering, "…Beings who give us very, very good cause to stay very, very solidly in line…"

…

As they passed through the manor gates, a woman in a simple, yet elegant dress ran forward to embrace Jaune. Holding him at arm's length, she quickly examined him, confusion lining her face. "I'd heard you'd been beaten to pulp, saving Lord Schnee from a group of assassins-yet here you are, unharmed."

"There was only one, but they certainly did leave a few marks." He grinned at Pyrrha's deepening blush. "Of several varieties." Causing her to flick her hair in place as a curtain from him, a smile building. Cinder looked to Pyrrha, her brow creasing.

"Who is this?"

"Her name is Pyrrha. As for her trade? Apparently, 'dread assassin of legend.'" Earning him a swat on the arm from Pyrrha. Cinder's brow creased further.

"Let us speak in my study, it seems this may be quite a tale…"

…

"…So, in return for her not telling Lord Schnee of my mating with Pyrrha, I agreed to return to the village to court her."

Pyrrha paused in eating a sweetroll, "Court me? Is that what you call silently following me about while witnessing my slow decent to madness from endless tormenting by my village sisters?"

"All you needed do, was listen when they said to turn 'round." He said with a wolfish grin.

"I did. Seven times. In a row." She narrowed her eyes in playful menace.

"Yet you still didn't trust them enough to check 'round a corner." Earning him a swat on the arm.

"You, sir, are a blight on my sanity." She was powerless against the finger that guided her to his kiss.

"You're very welcome." He purred, a sigh emanating from Cinder.

"You never change, Jaune." She stood, "Well, I'd best be off, seeing as I've a party to prepare for. Pyrrha, you'll need a party dress. There's a seamstress nearby that does excellent work, if you hurry. The party is tomorrow night and she'll need every moment she can spare to get it ready in time."

 ***Slaps roof of chapter* This baby can fit so much exposition! Hopefully I kept it interesting enough. Either way, the plot moves foreward!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So I've decided to skip having any kind of schedule outside of 'post twice per week.' Because I get up between midnight and 3am Arizona USA time I rarely think about jumping on the computer to update before going to drool at pressure gauges for 8+ hours per day at work.**

 **Couple of reviews mention owod and Valens is asking if Jaune's a vamp. I will freely admit that I had to google to understand the reference to owod and vehemently confess my hatred of twilight and how much fun I had razing castle Volkihar. Buffy way or may not have been my childhood waifu…**

 **So, to skip fanfare…**

The dress was magnificent, flowing along her form like the molten pearl its fabric looked to be woven from. There was, however, a flaw. "Jaune had a hand in the design, didn't he?"

Chuckling, Coco, the seamstress, replied, "He only said it needed to be combat ready, the rest is the fault of time and my supply of silk." Pyrrha looked about, seeing the multitude of fabric in Coco's workshop.

"Looks to me you'd enough silk for something a little less… abbreviated."

"Silk, yes, time, no. Now, stop complaining, at least you aren't sheathed in burlap, a fate you readily face if you keep squalling." Coco's voice was warm, despite the threat. The design was merely a wrap of pearly silk that extended from a mere third down her thigh to just high enough to cover her breasts, held in place by lacing along the front.

"Jaune must have had more say than you've told me…"

…

Eyes closed, Jaune picked at the tumblers of the intricate bronze lock he carried for practice, gently nudging each one with a mythril lockpick until the lever turned the cylinder and the heavy iron ring snapped open. As he turned a knob, randomly resetting the order of tumbler depth, he cricked his head to the side, dodging the dagger that stuck into the wood beside his head. "Blake."

"You're slowing down, Jaune." She strode up beside him, then leaned against the wall. "That, or you're losing focus." He heaved a sigh and closed the lock.

"It isn't healthy. Three weeks ago I didn't know she even existed, and now…"

"I saw how she mended Old Leo's mindbreak. How the children adore her little flame wisp and how the adults trust her to mend old complaints. She's an extraordinary find, but that isn't the issue here, is it?" The lock snapped open again and Jaune reset it for another round.

"She's going to change the world, already has."

"And she started with yours." Jaune clenched his eyes shut tight. "You aren't even trying to hide it, you know. That, or you're doing a terrible job of it."

"She's thrown everything into chaos. Her appearance shatters everything I thought I knew." Blake laid a hand on his arm, drawing a chuckle from him. "I'm being dramatic, again?"

"Chaos is the purest agent of change, and when we are shattered is the greatest opportunity to examine the shards of ourselves, select what we want, then discard the rest. I think, we roam so the tapestry of fate can freely utilize us, that there's a reason it's you that found her, not me or any other Huntsmen."

"That logic voids the concept of free will." A tumbler was being stubborn.

"I think not, because, though fate may arrange circumstances, it's us that make the choice to act upon them. Like how a river may flow one way, but the oar in our hands lets us defy that. You've a good chance to build a great fut-"

"It is far too early for such talk. The feelings may be there, yes, but I refuse to let them take over. I control the beast, not the other way 'round." The tumbler fell into place and the cylinder turned.

"Alright, then, have it your way. But, I've seen how you look to one another. If it isn't lo-"

"Blake, enough." He turned the knob and snapped the lock shut again.

"Jaune, honestly, what are you afraid of?"

For a time, there was only the ticking as Jaune fussed with the lock, then, "…I've been in her company for little more than a week, which is a far cry from enough time to truly read another's character." The lock snapped open again. "I'm afraid I'm not looking past her face, not seeing who she really is, because her abilities may set her on another pedestal." He sighed as he reset it again. "It's a thought that chafes, that she may not be the woman within that she seems at the surface."

"It heartens me, that you take this so seriously. I've seen the way she looks to you, and you stand in a place that richly deserves the attitude you've taken. For both your sakes, caution is a boon. Although, from my experiences of people, sometimes, you just… know." She looked past him, brow creasing. "Had you a hand in that design?"

Jaune turned and was struck breathless at the sight of pearly silk, plentiful skin, flowing hair and his favorite blush in the world. "Pyrrha…"

"I take it you've really no hand in this design?" She plucked at the silk sheathing her as she drew near.

"I accept full responsibility." Drawing a peal of laughter from Blake and a deeper blushing smile from Pyrrha.

"I'll see you both at the party." Blake strode off, a bounce in her step.

…

"I've never seen so many people before…" Pyrrha held close to Jaune as he made his way through and 'round the crowd of celebrators to a table laden with food.

"Cinder has been a great force of good in every one of their lives, she's not only eased their problems, she's solved root causes of strife. She's fully taken her office to heart, no person, no complaint, is beneath her notice, down to the smallest children squabbling over a doll." He picked an apple from the table, set his feet, and hurled it at Blake, who's back was turned, the apple whistling in flight until she plucked it from the air as if from the table itself, drawing applause from the townsfolk and an appreciative, "Hm." from Pyrrha.

Leaving Jaune to his patrols, Pyrrha went to Cinder, who, finally, was free of well-wishers. "Happy birthday, Milady."

"Oh, Pyrrha, call me Cinder, please. I didn't seek this position for the title." She chuckled, "Besides, a friend to Jaune is a friend to me, and you seem a fond friend to him, at the least." She laughed at Pyrrha's blush, "Let us walk, I'm dying of curiosity at that Weaving of yours, and this is a night of entertainments." Looping arms with Pyrrha, Cinder led her to a quieter corner of the event, where a mess of boys were piling wood for a fire. "Can you show me that darling little Wisp of yours? I've heard no end of it the entire day."

"Of course, though, I advise you, she won't burn anything. The children brought her enough twigs I fear she may have stuffed herself sick." She rubbed her palms together and the flame wisp burst to life in her cupped hands. Looking to the pile of wood, then back to Pyrrha, the wisp crossed her hands over her belly and shook her head.

"Why is that? What does that mean?" Cinder's eyes sparkled in the wisp's light.

"She eats by burning things, and only burns what she means to eat. Her flames will warm our flesh, but never burn or scald. While summoned, she spends the wood she's already burned to cast heat and light. She, like us, however, can have her fill." Pyrrha smoothed the wisp's puffy hair from her eyes, as a child ran up with a twig the wisp grudgingly accepted and began nibbling.

"How bright can she glow?" Cinder bit her lip in giddy excitement.

"Honestly, I don't know." Pyrrha blew gently into the wisp, causing her to sprout fairy wings. "What say you, little one? Care to test how well you shine?"

The wisp crunched the remains of the twig, swallowed, then stood, a determined set to her posture, then knelt, spread her wings and took flight, her glow changing from dull red, to orange, to blue as she climbed higher and higher in the night sky above the gathered townsfolk.

As she hovered an arrow's flight above them, she drew in her limbs, the air about her body shimmering with heat, then snapped herself straight as a dazzling brilliance bathed the townsfolk in light like noonday sun.

"Boys," Cinder said, looking to the shining wisp, "I think it best, you hold off on that bonfire…"

…

As they sat, feasting and chattering, a voice made Cinder freeze, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Cinder?"

"Yes, Amber?" Pyrrha looked at the slim, elegant woman who nearly flinched at Cinder's tone, preparing for anything.

"Cinder, I know we've had our differences, at my fault, but I came to wish you well, and inform you that I'm moving to Lord Schnee's region, by his invitation." Her eyes glistened as she bit her lip, "I'm sorry I've been such a blight, I've just been so… desperate, to prove myself, I've lost sight of what the office is truly about."

Cinder stood, looking Amber in the eye. After a time, she pulled Amber into a gentle embrace. "Best of luck, Lord Schnee's been meaning to retire for ages." Then let her go, smiling gently. "Besides, I'm hard pressed to think of a more fitting replacement."

Amber, nearly in tears, embraced Cinder again, then strode away, a giddy dance to her step.

Pyrrha, trying to maintain an angry scowl, said, "Well, Cinder, now you've two Huntsmen and one equivalent to guard you against absolutely nothing! What have you to say?"

Cinder returned Pyrrha's sudden grin. "Live with it!"

…

As she rejoined Jaune, a whistle made Pyrrha snatch a knife from the table, slicing the airborne pear evenly along the center, catching one half between her second finger and thumb, looking to Jaune as he bit into the other in the same motion she bit into hers. "I think I like this game."

"Showoff!" Blake shouted above the crowd's applause.

…

As they danced to a slow ballad from the minstrels, Pyrrha asked, "So, aside from tracking and, obviously, combat, what skills do you learn from Beacon? Are you masters of interpreting law?" Jaune snorted and shook his head.

"No laws, a moral code as follows, 'All are free to decide, possess, or craft what they will, provided their choice infringes or impedes not, the choice of another. No proven lies are to be told or penned. No proven property is to be violated or taken from another, excepting mutually agreed trade or invitation into one's territory. Violence, excepting defense of self, family and property or mutually agreed sport is forbidden. Violators of said code forfeit rights in equal measure to the violation committed.' A great deal to interpret, I know." Pyrrha playfully swatted at his arm again. "As for skills taught by Beacon, we are taught every art needed to understand the mind of whoever we may need to bring to justice. We've all our hobbies, though. I've taken to lockpicking, Blake, to pickpocketing."

"You're taught to be thieves?"

"To understand the minds of thieves, yes. As we are trained, we are kept under constant watch, to ensure we are truly virtuous and earnestly seek to serve the greater good. Any that are dishonest, our Masters seek every avenue to bring to the light. They don't always succeed, but a heart to heart chat with the Grandmaster has yet to fail." He chuckled, "Many legends of that man, and he never lifts a finger to stem the tide."

"You've met him?"

"Yes, despite the torment our training tends to be, you'd never know a gentler being. Though, I always feel a sense of dread for whatever creature manages to provoke him." He nestled Pyrrha close as a love ballad grew tragic.

As she reveled in his embrace, a thought returned, "So, you said Blake's a pickpocket?"

"Yes, quite skilled, even." He chuckled.

"How skilled?" Pyrrha jumped as a hand slapped her shoulder.

"Enough to get in plenty of trouble." Blake said, and walked away, the crowd bursting into laughter.

"How did she mea-" Pyrrha blushed furiously at the film of white lace Blake twirled 'round a finger. As she rushed forward to snatch them back, the whistle of a dart rang through the air, punctuated by Cinder's shriek of agony…

 **Sooo… Questions? Comments? Please, post reviews with either. I'll see you're lovely faces next week!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So, I got home from work and made myself a bowl of beef ramen and dropped a plain babybell cheese thing in it. Then I had a shot of Alaska Distillery Smoked Salmon vodka, then a shot of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey, then a shot of Captain Morgan's Cannonball and 2 Mike's hard lemonades (watermelon then strawberry), told my wife I was having a great time whilst using an Irish accent no less than 43 times in 3 hours. Now 4 chapters are ready for posting. In honor of my alcohol induced workaholism, here's an extra chapter.**

Pyrrha spun, looking as Cinder collapsed forward, then to Jaune, whose arm was still outstretched from the dart he'd thrown, "Satchel, now!"

As she dashed through the parting crowd to Cinder's side, she clapped her hands together, a tremor rippling as she Wove a Bloodcharmer into the wounds, halting the bleeding as Blake tore the corpse of the assassin away from Cinder, who was wailing in pain from several deep furrows torn across the length of her back. As the wisp descended to give her better light, Pyrrha saw the wounds had cut only muscle, "Cinder, hold on, you'll be fine. Blake, is he dead?"

Blake crouched next to the fallen assassin and sniffed the dart protruding from his temple. "He's down for good."

"Good." Jaune slid to a halt, handing Pyrrha her satchel. "Jaune, keep an eye on that corpse, but don't damage it further. Blake, talk to Cinder, keep her responding." As she spoke, she tore into her satchel, unwrapping her mortar and pestle, dropping in ingredients for a salve and grinding them quickly, a tremor rippling at its completion. She set aside her pestle and lifted the mortar, another tremor rippling as she breathed life into the salve, which slithered onto her palm in a tendril, which she set on Cinder's back as she straddled her hips.

"Blake, hold her down. Cinder, I'm sorry, but this will hurt until I'm done." She waited until Blake had Cinder locked down, then began pressing the edges of each wound together as the salve tendril knit her flesh whole, leaving her skin flawless again.

As her body was woven whole, Cinder's wracking sobs faded, until she fell fast asleep from relief. Pyrrha sighed, glad her new friend was alright.

"Jaune, could you carry her to her bed? She only needs to rest. I'll be along soon." After Jaune, bearing Cinder, faded from sight, the crowd forced a hysterical Amber before Blake.

"It wasn't me! I swear, it wasn't me!" Amber's entire body shook from the force of her wracking sobs.

"You'd best not be lying, Amber." Blake's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Either way, we'll be getting the truth from him soon enough." Pyrrha said as she turned the dead assassin onto his back.

"How? He's already dead." Blake's brow knit as Pyrrha straddled the corpse, locking his elbows down with her knees.

"Not if I act quickly." She plucked the dart from his temple and coaxed the salve tendril into the hole, mending the damage then, leaning close, she listened for breathing. Hearing none, she pressed her fingers under his jawline, searching for a heartbeat.

"What does that mean?" Blake snapped as Pyrrha balled her right hand into a fist, cupped the back of it with the other and thrust hard into his chest, just to the right of center, counting to ten, then paused and listened for breath. "What are you doing?"

"Death doesn't happen as quickly, or absolutely, as you think." Suddenly, after several rounds of thrusting then listening for breath, the assassin gasped awake and began coughing, before a hard swing from Pyrrha knocked him cold. With a satisfied, "Mn hm!" she stood.

"May I trust you not to kill him before learning his loyalties?" Blake's jaw was agape, the crowd was silent. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

…

As Jaune nudged open the door to her room, Cinder roused and pulled him into her kiss, tears beginning to stream down her face, as her lips strove urgently against his. Suddenly, she let him loose, hands cupping her mouth, horror in her eyes. "Jaune, I don't know what came over me just then."

He chuckled as he set her in a chair, "You nearly died. Had I not darted that assassin when I did, he would have run through your skull. That in mind, a bit of impulsiveness is forgivable." He sighed, "I suppose Blake's little philosophy about fate may have a grain of truth to it; Pyrrha may very well have saved your life as well."

"Blake does tend to have a point." Cinder knit her brow, "How did you know they would strike at that moment?"

He looked her over, "Let's get you out of that blooded dress, and then I'll tell you." He went and plucked her bed robe from its hook, turning, only to quickly avert his eyes. "Cinder, we've had this talk before."

"What was that you just said of impulsiveness?" She giggled, hands on her hips completely exposed, "Besides, before I do anything else, I need to clean up. If you'll lend a hand?" She crossed her room and sat on a wooden stool next to a wash basin, crossing her arms over her chest, grinning mischievously. "Please, Jaune?"

…

As she rounded a curve in the hall, her heart leapt as she saw him walking her way. "Jaune."

"Pyrrha, are you lost?" He grinned as her blush rose again.

"I can't find Cinder's room..."

"She's alright, she spoke to me before I left." Why can't she breathe when he looks at her like that?

"What did she say?" As he drew close, lightning held her gloriously fast as he took a lace between two fingers and pulled the knot loose.

"For me to thank you, properly, for saving her life." Her entire world spun as he captured her in a kiss, the whisper of silk tracing her spine…

…

…

Pyrrha woke, warm and comfortable, in their room, the sun warming her face. As she sat up, stretching out the aches from last night, she noticed she was alone. "Jaune?"

…

"How's our prisoner?" Jaune leaned against the wall next to Blake.

"Alive. Out cold, but alive." Blake's eyes never left the assassin, her face lined from exhaustion.

"Still out cold from Pyrrha's strike?"

"No. When he wakes, he starts screaming and the only thing that stops it is knocking him cold." She couldn't stop the shiver along her spine. "I suppose, it's a risk of raising the dead, it breaks them somehow."

"I'm not so sure, I honestly doubt Pyrrha would cause such harm to anyone, even a murderer. Does he say anything when he wakes?" The assassin twitched in his slumber.

"Yes, he wants me to remove his gauntlet, yet, it's somehow… bound to him, in a way I've never seen. As if it's his very flesh…" She shivered again. "I honestly hope you're right about her, for if it's her resurrecting him that's shattered his mind so, I fear the change she heralds…"

"There's one way to find out, I'll keep watch of him, you go, consult with Pyrrha, then get some rest, you're spent."

…

Pyrrha yelped and covered herself as the door opened and Blake strode in. "Good morning, Pyrrha." Her face was tired, empty.

"Blake, what's wrong? Is Cinder…?"

"She's fine." Blake paused, seeming uncertain, then, "How many people have you resurrected the way you did the assassin last night?" Slumping into a chair, seeming utterly spent.

"It's not resurrection, he wasn't truly dead yet. What's happened?" Pyrrha felt a chill creeping into her bones as Blake seemed to cradle herself.

"…When he first woke after you'd knocked him cold, he started screaming for me to remove something. I couldn't calm him, so I knocked him cold again. When he woke again, he managed to tear his bindings, then started scrabbling at the gauntlet on his left hand. I've never seen anything like it, it was as if forged from darkness, then bound to his flesh." Her voice broke, "He started tearing his own flesh, trying to remove it, so I knocked him cold again." She looked to Pyrrha, eyes glistening. "Does revival often break minds so?"

"Never." She rolled out of bed and grabbed her clothes, dressing. "Take me to him. I have to see this myself."

…

It wasn't possible, the clenching, unclenching fingers were curved blades, far too thin for fingers to slip in, the paw of his hand shown crevices clear through, every surface glinted like shattered glass, the color a deep obsidian. She'd never been as terrified of anything in her entire life. Suddenly, he stirred, and she leapt back from him, Miló leaping into her hand as his head turned to her, bloodshot eyes open.

"Is it true?" His voice was gravel from shouting.

"Yes, I reviv-"

"Not that, I'd heard Huntsmen use a thread that cleaves flesh and bone, if a prisoner breaks through rope?" His voice broke, "I still feel it attached, the voices still taunt me. Is it true?" He looked to Pyrrha, shattered hope in his eyes.

"Yes, but we never bound you with it." Jaune replied quietly behind her. Suddenly, the man started convulsing, the shriek of grinding glass filling the air, and they saw as the gauntlet began growing along his arm, then stopped, the room falling silent. "Amber didn't hire you to kill Cinder, did she?"

"No." The man croaked, tears rolling down his face. "The voices told me to, they're quieter with her here, though. I can fight them." He looked to Pyrrha. "Please, remove it."

"I can't, not with-"

"My hand is already gone."

…

As he rubbed the sealed stump, he sighed with relief and looked to them, reason restored in his eyes. "Thank you so much, I can finally think, now." Pyrrha stooped to pick up the severed hand. "I wouldn't. Whatever that thing is, it shouldn't exist."

"How did you find it?" Jaune's hand never left the clip of darts in his vest, eyes never leaving the man.

"I found it in a ruin, several leagues from here." At their confused looks, he explained, "I'm an anthropologist, though," He sighed, "most folk call me 'grave robber'."

"You're quite bold, admitting violating the dead's rest before a Huntsmen." Jaune's eyes narrowed.

"Battlefields are hardly a place the dead find restful."

"Sounds as if you'd stuck your nose where it didn't belong and got bitten, as you, perhaps, deserved."

Jaune's posture tensed as the man suddenly raised his stump snorted amusedly at the gesture, then held up a single finger of his right hand, then began patting at his pockets. When he withdrew a gleaming black object, Jaune knocked it from his fingers with a dart.

Raising his arms in a placating gesture, the man enunciated, "My fault, I'll move slower." Then, true to word, slowly reached out and removed the apparently unharmed slab from the floor. He inspected it, then chuckled, "Built to last." He turned to Jaune, "Relax, it won't harm you." Then he squeezed at the edges of the slab and he began counting down from five, then lights began dancing across the surface of the slab. He presented the now glowing and flickering surface to Jaune.

"Sir, I know people view my… hobby, in a foul light. However, the treasure I've always sought was never gold or gems, it has, ever and always, been the secrets to the wonders of the ancient world. I found the sphere that blighted my hand lodged in the belly of, what seemed to me, a ship that floated the skies." He looked to them, "Can you imagine it? The rush of sailing among the clouds?"

"You're certain those voices left you?" His mood deflated as Jaune's words pierced his enthusiasm.

"Sir, I accept full responsibility for harming Lady Cinder, no matter what state I was in. However, I speak the truth." He held out the slate, "Here, take it, by all means investigate it. It will give you enough answers I daresay you'll believe me."

"Jaune," Pyrrha laid a hand on his arm. "My grandmother told me stories of such things, he may be speaking the truth." She looked to the man. "Sir, you said the ruin was only a few leagues from here, and you're willing to show… the… way?" The man had scrambled to his feet and was backing quickly away in terror.

"I'd be glad, though **that** seems the more pressing matter…"


	7. Chapter 7

The gauntlet twitched angrily, the squeal and grind of glass an agony to their ears as it consumed what little flesh and bone remained attached, halting instantly when all had turned obsidian.

"Madam, Sir, if it's all the same with you, I ask to be moved to another cell, preferably as far from that as possible…" He gulped, "In case it wants the next course…"

"Jaune, you move him, I want to examine this further." At his worried look, "I'll be fine, I've merely an odd feeling, that's all."

"If you've an odd feeling, perhaps you should heed it and keep your distance." To the man, "Move slowly, I've no qualms ending you again if given reason." Then unlocked the door, letting the man, moving slowly and carefully, out, then shut the door behind himself saying, "I'll be back in five minutes, don't make me regret leaving you alone."

…

As their footsteps faded, Pyrrha knelt next to the gauntlet. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her Weave, trying to sense it, and finding only a maelstrom where the gauntlet lay. Instead of braving the madness, she opened her eyes and ran a finger along the oddly hot glass, yelping as a crack opened and she caught a shard.

As she dug for the miniscule tongs she used for thorns, her finger felt as if it burst into flame! As she looked, the obsidian glass began to **spread** across her fingertip!

Wrestling her growing panic under control, she reached deep within her Weave, and began to pull against the shard, the air rippling as the glass began to recede.

Suddenly, a legion of voices howled a relentless chorus of soul wrenching agony, filling her mind with chaos! Wielding her growing terror, she tore against the shard with every thread of control she had over the Weave, a violent tremor shaking the walls as the splinter ripped free, leaving her fingertip normal again.

As the shard shattered against the stone floor, her vision narrowed, then collapsed into darkness…

…

She was hurtling through an endless void, infinite sparks of light in every direction, her breath stolen from her, her limbs weightless, her screams, silent.

Suddenly, she felt a vastness behind her, and turned, only to feel a talon pierce her belly.

As she looked up, tears leaking from her eyes, she saw two giant orbs of a bloody livid red, focusing on her, and a dread voice tore everything she ever was apart, "You, the grain of sand to tip the balance, had best…" The talon clenched within her, twisting, "choose…" and tore free, "WISELY!"

…

She woke, a gasp shrieking into her as she sat up, and nearly cracked skulls with Jaune.

"Pyrrha! What happened?" She snatched her shirt up, looking at her belly, feeling her soft, faintly scarred, skin, nearly fainting with relief to see her body whole, then looked to him, tears flowing freely as she threw her arms around him. "Pyrrha?"

"Just breathe, Jaune." She begged, "Just breathe." So she sat, cradled in his arms, his fingers running gently through her hair, as his deep, rhythmic breathing let her return to their forest, the morning after she'd fallen for him, when the world was such a simple place…

…

As her tears soaked into his chest, Jaune looked at the gauntlet, and saw it cracking. "Pyrrha, look!" She shook her head, and the gauntlet's obsidian turned to lighter granite. "Pyrrha, whatever happened, you won." She looked up, confusion in her eyes, then turned and gasped as the gauntlet turned to white marble, shattered, then crumbled into sand.

"Grain of sand…" She whispered, then spoke in a rush, "I had a vision, I couldn't understand, but something said 'Grain of sand to tip the balance'," She began to look ill, "then, it…" She gestured, as if to tear something from within.

"Why would it…" The strangest flood of hope bloomed in Jaune's heart, "Are you…with child?" He nearly flinched as she looked to him, confusion and hope fighting in her eyes.

"I-I shouldn't…" She lifted a finger. "Wait." She lifted her shirt and laid her hands on the bare flesh over her womb, closing her eyes, breathing slowly… then, she bit her lip. "…no." That word shouldn't have cracked his heart... Her voice echoed with wonder as she looked to him. "You… want children?"

"I…" He sighed, "Look, I just," He growled in frustration.

"You want children, with me?" Tears of another variety began to form, drawing a huff from Orlandu.

"Pyrrha, we're-"

"-walking on thin ice-" She blurted, smiling.

"-and we need-"

"-to take things-"

"-slowly. Meaning-"

"-no 'L-word'-"

"-until we're both-"

"-absolutely certain-"

"-this will work." As they sat, she in his lap, he knowing full well the futility of the exchange, one last thought needed voice. "We're still-"

"-mating every night."

"Every. Night." He savored her blush.

"Seventh hour tonight?"

"Sharp. Now, let's leave this place, I don't fully trust that sand." He kissed her cheek, helped her to her feet, let her pull him to his, then wrapped an arm about her shoulders and led her away, as the white sand turned to dust, dissolving into oblivion.

…

As they entered Cinder's study, she looked up from the pile of reports piled next to her breakfast. "Good morning, Blake told me events have taken a twist, have you anything to add?" She plucked a boiled egg from her plate, cracked it against the table and delicately rolled it between her hands, pulverizing the shell.

"Only that I honestly wish it had been Amber plotting against you, not whatever mystery we've stumbled upon." Pyrrha helped herself to the small banquet of leftovers from the party. "Your assassin seems to have been possessed by some dark force, one that left him after we removed his blighted hand."

"'Blighted?' How do you mean?" After peeling the remains of the shell from the egg, she dipped it in a fingerbowl to rinse the egg clean. "What weapon did he attack me with?"

"His hand _was_ the weapon, apparently, some artifact turned his very flesh into glass and shattered his mind." Jaune produced the slate and laid it before Cinder. "He claims to have found this trinket." He scoffed, "along with some craft to sail the skies." As Jaune made his way to the table laden with leftovers, Cinder deftly folded a sheet of paper into an odd elongated triangular shape.

"Like this?" She gently flicked the odd construct to him. Reflexively Jaune snatched the missile from the air, looking from the crushed paper in his hand to Cinder, and the distance Cinder's nudge of a throw shouldn't have cast the thing across.

She giggled at Jaune's shock, "You deal with crystalline crows as often as you do, and yet, the thought of sailing the clouds seems odd?" She nibbled at the egg, "What is that quip your Mentors at Beacon keep using, anyway?"

"Cinder, are you alright?" Pyrrha set her plate down and walked over to examine her. "You seem to take your being attacked in stride, but how are you feeling? Really?"

Cinder loosed a chirp of a laugh, "Like one of the three again, Jaune and Blake ran off to become Huntsmen, while I stayed here, playing the Noble, solving problems for everyone who asked, until they made it my job. They live adventures while I stay here, warm, safe and fed, until last night, when I finally had a bout of adventure for myself." She grinned at Jaune, "I'll bet you've never had your back laid open! Now, whenever you show me a new scar, I can grind the salt in of how 'I've had worse'!"

He returned her mad grin, "Oh? Prove it. Where are the scars?" He looked away as Cinder bared a shoulder. "Cinder…" He warned.

"If you're really so curious…" She teased, then froze as she felt Pyrrha bare her other shoulder. "Pyrrha, what are you about?" She franticly held her dress up, after a whistled note from Pyrrha completely unlaced her bodice.

"I actually do need to take a look; the blight seems to spread by shards breaking off into the new host." She giggled, "I assume Jaune's passion last night was fueled by more than gratitude?"

"He only washed my back, I swear!" Jaune shook with laughter at the squeak of panic in Cinder's voice as she covered herself, Pyrrha gently pulling her dress down her back, exposing where the wounds had been.

"Oh, you needn't worry," She leaned in and purred in Cinder's ear, "You did me **quite** the favor." She gently ran her palm along Cinder's bare skin, where she remembered the wounds had been, reaching out with her weave, sensing for blight, then, "You know, the less cloth in the way, the faster I can search." A clang echoed through the room, and Pyrrha looked up, seeing one of the manor stewards standing in a corner, near a dropped platter of food, looking rather… overwhelmed. "No, you don't get to watch, shoo."

"Just because I am somewhat brazen with friends, does not mean I am always so." Cinder gently warned. "Now, please, a little privacy?" Her voice held nothing but respect for the man, despite his near drooling at the situation.

"Come, let me tell you of how I met Pyrrha." Jaune gave the steward a brotherly slap on the shoulder, leading him from the study.

"Were I in your position," Pyrrha said after the door shut, "my words would have been harsher." She continued searching for blight shards.

"He isn't mine to command, he helps keep this Manor in order because he loves seeing it in pristine condition. Besides which, I serve him, not the other way 'round." She sighed, "It's nearly an offense, how I hadn't noticed him until just then."

"To be fair, I hadn't noticed him until just then, either." She continued searching for splinters, "I was serious, by the way." Drawing a sigh from Cinder.

"If you must, though I'd prefer to maintain my remaining modesty."

…

After, thankfully, finding no traces of blight in Cinder, Pyrrha returned to her plate. "That was an odd trick you did, with the floating paper?"

"It's a trick for making toys, from before the age of crystalline crows." After righting her dress, she took a bite of the egg, then laughed. "Would you mind calling up your wisp? I've an idea for a game."

…

As Jaune led the steward back into Cinder's study, he had reached the climax of the tale. "So, there we stood, her foot trapped beneath mine, she fighting for her very life, pummeling me with everything she had, when finally, I managed to catch her by the hair at the base of her skull."

"What happened then?" The steward asked breathlessly, pausing as Pyrrha stood from the table and marched to where they stood, a predatory gleam in her eye, blushing from neck to brow, then grabbed Jaune by the collar and wrapped her arms about his neck, giving him a burningly, **achingly** passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Looking to the Steward, she seductively purred, "And then he claimed me like a wild beast, right there on the forest floor." The steward's breath wheezed from him, and he turned to Cinder, fainting as she bared her shoulders, smiling suggestively.

"Now you've done it," Jaune groaned, "he's broken."


	8. Chapter 8

As Cinder sat on the floor, warmly cradling the slumbering steward's head in her lap, Pyrrha whispered to Jaune, "She cares for that one, doesn't she?" Drawing a warm chuckle from him.

"He's one of her people, she loves him with all her heart." He cut a steak from a roast, adding it to his plate, "Though, she isn't often as brazen as she was while you two broke the poor lad's mind."

"I won't apologize. Besides, he's now her lifelong, loyal servant, forever bound by his libido. The poor thing." She took a bite of her fruit salad, giggling.

"You're an atrocity." Jaune warmly nudged his mate with his shoulder.

"Welcome back." Cinder crooned, before the steward tried scrambling to his feet, knocking himself cold against a table in the process. As he slumped back to the floor, Cinder held a hand against her laughter and pulled him back onto her lap with the other.

"I'll have a look at that." Pyrrha stood, hefting her satchel and crossed the room to the steward's side, gently probed at the growing bump on his brow, then made a salve. "I'd best keep an eye on him, that blow may leave him dazed for a while." As she dabbed the salve onto his brow, the steward roused again. "Ah! Stay down, whatever chores you **had** , you've the day off, now."

As the bump receded into his brow, Cinder asked, "You're Neptune, right?"

"I… Yes." He looked between Cinder and Pyrrha, a small panic behind his eyes.

"Don't worry Neptune, we don't bite." Pyrrha stiffened as Jaune coughed "liar!" earning him a playful glare.

"Well, Neptune, seeing as you've the day off, perhaps you've time to chat awhile?" Cinder's winning smile left little room to argue.

…

As Cinder tutored the three of them in folding gliders, Blake strode into the study, looking better for the wear than she had that morning. "I see I've missed some fun." She scolded them.

"And some peril, so I'd say it evens out." Pyrrha handed shard of a walnut shell to the wisp, who was watching their crafting curiously. "Have we folded enough gliders for you to explain the game you've in mind, Cinder?"

"After you give your wisp her wings back." Cinder waited until the wisp had taken flight, then threw a glider past the wisp, who eagerly gave chase, crashing into the glider midair, the paper blazing on impact, righting herself as the last embers of the glider faded. "Need I say more?" Her devilish grin spread to them all as they began a mad game of catch with the giddy wisp.

…

After burning the sheaf of paper Cinder was willing to waste, the wisp floated into the pile of wood in the fireplace, setting a slow burn to a log and settling for a nap among the building flames. "You've no idea how I envy your weaving, Pyrrha." Cinder sighed, looking to the wisp.

"Well, seeing as you'd have to feed her constantly to keep her burning, how she'd be more a boon to the region than you, and how they are often tricky little blights, I'd hardly consider binding her to you a gift." At Cinder's curious look, "On the condition that you owe me nothing in return."

With a warm smile, "You drive a hard bargain, Pyrrha." So, Pyrrha stood, crossing the room to Cinder, rubbing her hands together, a tremor rippling through the study as she laid her hands on either of Cinder's cheeks, and in the building flames, the wisp's hair shifted to match Cinder's…

…

After finishing breakfast and gathering a plate of food for the prisoner, Jaune returned to the dungeon. "Well, I admit this is a good start." The man, literally, hadn't moved an inch from where Jaune had left him.

"Honesty is excellent motivation." The man replied as Jaune set the plate before him. "Might I ask if Lady Fall is alright?"

"…Yes, if nothing else, she seems better for the wear." He leveled a warning glare to the man. "Though, that is by no means an offer to try again."

"I would rather be eaten alive by that grim blight." The man began eating. "I was quite serious in my offer to show you the ruins." He said between bites.

"I am quite serious in my accepting that offer." Jaune said gravely. "The woman who healed you insists, and I've many reasons to comply."

"Is she your lover?" The man asked cautiously, then flinched beneath Jaune's glare.

"That, is neither your concern, nor a single one of the reasons." He stood, "Now, get some rest, we leave at first light." He turned and opened the door.

"Thank her for me." The man's gentle tone rang with gratitude.

"For…?" Jaune glanced over his shoulder towards the man.

"Cutting the steak to morsels, I've only the one hand, now. It was very considerate of her." He continued eating.

Jaune heaved a sigh. "I did it. I may be harsh towards criminals, but I am not heartless." He left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

…

"So," Blake began after Neptune had left the room, "How's Jaune under the blanket?" Drawing a crimson blush from Pyrrha.

"Magnificent enough to make me wonder what they teach you at Beacon." She trembled at recalled pleasure.

"Aside from combat and understanding of potential quarry? How to tap our primal selves, usually resulting in superior hearing, touch, strength, intuition and sense of smell. It's why we're the best trackers in the known lands." She sipped at her glass of milk. "It also makes us more susceptible to pleasure. Though," She grinned devilishly, "I'm hard pressed to decide if that's a weakness, or advantage."

Pyrrha looked to Cinder, and they chimed "Advantage." in perfect unison, the three of them bursting with giggles.

"So, that Neptune…" Pyrrha began, prodding Cinder with a shoulder.

"Give it time, Pyrrha, I've only just noticed him." She sighed, "He seems rather timid, though."

"I've a few remedies for that." Blake purred.

"If Jaune's any gauge, I'm certain you do." Pyrrha teased.

"If I'm any gauge for what?" He purred in her ear, startling her out of her skin.

"Driving people insane!" She said as she swat his arm.

"Says the reality confounding woman." He kissed her cheek and sat next to her.

"So, how's our prisoner?" Blake asked as she nibbled a sweetroll.

"Saner than before and seemingly honorable." He poured himself some cider. "He, literally, hadn't moved an inch since last I saw him, and is earnest in showing us some ruins he'd been pillaging when something blighted his hand, which was, in fact, the gauntlet."

"Sounds like a trap." Blake cracked her neck. "Been some time since I've sprung a good ambush, when do we leave?"

"First light tomorrow, will you be ready to join us, Cinder?" Pyrrha nudged Cinder again.

"I've gentler means of saving the land, thank-you-very-much." She sniffed, "Besides, I've also had my fill of danger for some years to come."

"Pansy." Blake quipped.

"Savage." Cinder tossed back.

"Sparkling. Fairy. Princess."

"There's one." Cinder pointed to the slumbering wisp in the fireplace.

"…You haven't seen the last of me!" Blake flicked a grape at Cinder, who deftly caught it in her mouth and stuck her tongue out in return.

"That reminds me," Cinder began, "Jaune, you never did tell me of how you knew when the assassin would strike."

"It was precisely when I would have struck." He said simply, then, as the clatter of silverware echoed through the room, looked to Cinder, seeing the wounded shock in her eyes. "It's not like that, Cinder."

"I'm sorry, I just… remember tales of a different age, between Nobility and Huntsmen." She averted her eyes, "I just fear that history repeating…"

Jaune reached across the table to set a hand on Cinder's arm. "It won't. Not when people like you are common choices as Nobles."

"Just how extreme of measures saw employ on tyrant Nobility?" Pyrrha's brow knit with concern as Cinder blanched.

"Extreme." She managed…

…

"When I was small," Pyrrha began, breaking the awkward silence, "my Grandmother told me the tale of how our village was founded. If anyone's interested?"

"I'd be fascinated." Cinder smiled at the welcome distraction.

"I'm wondering why you're not already hip deep in it." Blake teased.

"If you'll wait a moment, I've someone I'm certain wants to hear it." Jaune looked cautiously to Cinder. "Are you alright seeing him, with Blake and I keeping guard?"

"I'll admit a certain curiosity, bring him in. It'll certainly test doubts of his honor, at the least." Cinder said, surprisingly lightly.

"What happened to having had your fill of adventure?" Blake's mad grin spread to Cinder.

"Live with it!"

Jaune shook his head. "Mad women." And left the room.

"Says the biter." Pyrrha stuck her tongue at the closed door.

…

"I'm heartened to see this trend." The man, again, had stayed precisely where he'd been before, the only exception being the nearly perfectly cleaned plate before him.

"I've no reason not to cooperate, though, it seems a little much in late morning to be first light tomorrow." His tone was gentle, curious. "Might I ask why you've returned so soon?"

"First, I'll need your name, then, I'll tell you."

"…Bartholomew. Oobleck." The man's brow knit curiously.

"I'll be keeping close watch either way, but if you can behave, I'll be bringing you along to hear the tale of a wondrous village's beginning. Are you agreeable to being bound to ensure Lady Fall's safety in your presence?" Jaune held aloft a coil of mythril cable and a spool of metallic thread.

"If it means learning how that woman sealed my stump and restored my voice in mere seconds? Without reserve."

"Stand, don't move until after I've bound you, then follow me."

…

Cinder looked up as the door swung open again. "I thought you'd gone home."

Neptune quietly shut the door behind him. "I had," He held a wrapped package aloft, "but it was to retrieve this." He walked timidly forward, untying the package. "I was thinking, since I was just going to leave it on display, it didn't exactly apply as a gift, so…"

Cinder opened her hands as Neptune offered her the package, with the last layer of soft cloth still concealing it, then pulled away the cloth, revealing a small, porcelain sculpture. "It's…" Tears welled in her eyes. "You made this?" It was her, in perfect miniature detail, painted with dye to match every color precisely, wearing her favorite dress, face glowing with the warmth she always felt when she'd served her people well, in a pose of quiet dignity.

"Yes." He turned to leave. "Happy birthday, Lady Fall."

"Why?" Her voice cracked with emotion, stopping him in his tracks.

"…You saved my life. Long ago." He heaved a sigh, "All you did was share a few words of encouragement, but it was the difference between sipping the poison tea I'd prepared and finding the purpose that's carried me to this day." He looked to the walls of the manor, his voice gentle, but a quiet, unyielding strength echoed through her as he spoke, "'There is beauty in all things, that can only be denied by those who stop looking.' That was what you said, so long ago, yet, seeming as if only yesterday." He started for the door again, pausing after he'd opened it, "I'll be back to work tomorrow, keeping these halls as beautiful as the woman that dwells within them." Then quietly closed it behind him, leaving Cinder on the verge of tears, staring after him, holding the most precious gift she'd ever received against her swelling heart…


	9. Chapter 9

As he held the door for Oobleck, Jaune felt the mood had shifted, and noticed the assembled women hadn't a dry eye among them. "Alright, what happened while I was gone?"

"That, is for us to know, and you not to." Pyrrha teased, wiping her eyes dry. She looked to Cinder, indicating Oobleck. "Are you alright? Seeing him so soon?"

For a time, Cinder said nothing, cradling her porcelain self in her hands, then, "Do you regret trying to kill me?"

"With every fiber of my being." Oobleck replied gravely.

"You'll never try again?" She brushed at the brow of her porcelain self, as if to smooth the hair from her eyes.

"I'd sooner die." Oobleck seemed to spit at the concept.

"Evidence would suggest, you weren't in your right mind during the act." Cinder looked to Oobleck, her face carefully neutral.

"Inconsequential, it was my hand that wrought the deed, so it is I who must pay the price, I was under no duress of any kind, and have only hollow madness as my defense. I accept responsibility of my actions in full measure." He squared his jaw resolutely.

"In my opinion, given time to prove your mettle, by losing your hand in the attempt, this matter is balanced." Cinder allowed a sad smile, "On the condition that your word is of value, if not, I leave you to the judgment of Beacon."

"Seems fair enough," Jaune looked to Blake, "Have you anything to add?"

"Well," She began, "Seeing as the victim has stated the conditions of balance, I'd say it's just another reason to see these ruins this…" She motioned to Oobleck.

"Oobleck." He supplied.

"Has to show us. If it's a trap, we kill him on the spot, if not, we find if something greater is afoot."

"Agreed." Jaune turned to Oobleck, "You understand the conditions of your clemency?"

"Yes. Now, if I may be so bold, I was told there was a tale of the ancient world to hear? To me, that is the more relevant topic than my fate." He looked imploringly to Pyrrha, drawing a huff of a laugh from her.

"Is everyone comfortable?" Pyrrha settled herself deeper into her seat, letting the others settle into theirs, then began.

…

"Over a millennium ago, during the age of wonders, my Ancestress fell in love. He was no ordinary man, for his was among the minds that built the great of wonders of their age. Though she was a mere herbalist, he fell as deeply for her as she for him, and, for a time, they lived in bliss." She sighed, "Though, all was not perfect, for, despite their greatest effort, they had no children. Desperate, they sought the aid of the great healers of their age, in vain, for it was his seed that was too weak to take root in her, and none of their great wonders of healing could mend his fault.

"My Ancestress knew her love was devastated by this, so she sought an answer among her herbs, and there, in her garden, was spoken to by the Weave for the first time, seeing the needed ingredients glowing, and Wove for the first time in our memory.

"Ecstatic, she set her creation in front of him, and urged him to drink it, smiling brilliantly when he finally humored her, then led him to bed." Pyrrha giggled, then continued. "That very night, she felt her womb stir, and knew she'd succeeded.

"However, when she had swollen with child, he believed she had betrayed him, scorning her, and their unborn child, calling her a liar when she said she'd cured him with her herbs. Heartbroken and grieved, she wished, with all her heart, to disappear, unlocking, well…" The air rippled as Pyrrha vanished from sight, her clothes hanging in the air as they continued to cling to her form.

Her voice rang through the room anew, "In this state," Her clothes rose from her seat, the thump of shoes being kicked from feet rang through the room, then the sleeves of her blouse tilted toward the lacings of her trousers, the strings seemingly untying themselves until her trousers slid to the floor, and her blouse, remaining upright, floated across the table she'd sat behind towards Jaune, who scrambled to his feet in alarm. "We cannot be captured or touched, except," Her sleeve rose, and he felt her hand caress his cheek, "By those who mean us neither harm, nor mischief."

He felt her hands on either side of his face, and let her pull him into her kiss, "You are the only man, ever, to track a Weaver to her limits, and I am among the strongest in memory. Usually, we choose a man, and tempt him away from safe paths of travel with our wisp, leading him into the forest until he's lost, then reveal ourselves and claim him as our own." She embraced him. "Weaver children are always born female, since the child of my Ancestress and her love, always girls, so every one of us have to go and catch her mate, until you caught me."

She pulled away, "When my Ancestress vanished from before his eyes, my Ancestor called her name, begging her to return, but she only said, 'If you ever loved me, you'd have never doubted me.' then fled, never to return. She found our home, and, with the aid of an ancient and powerful creature, she raised her child, mastered her powers, then, when her child no longer needed her, became one with the Weave, and watches over us to this day."

As she turned towards her seat, the door to the study opened, a maid carrying a cleaning bucket stepping into the room. "Good morning Cind-" She froze, seeing Pyrrha's invisible form sheathed only in her blouse, and turned white as a sheet, dropping her cleaning bucket and pointing to Pyrrha. "G-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-"

Pyrrha started to slightly bob and weave, as if her blouse was being stirred by a breeze, then darted towards the maid, who shrieked in terror and fled, Pyrrha giving chase, the door closing, muffling the screaming of the poor maid as she fled. "Well," Blake yelped, "That was sudden…"

Moments later, Pyrrha, visible again and laughing herself apart, stumbled back into the study and slumped into a wall, carefully folding her legs beneath her as she settled to the floor.

"You, darling," Jaune began, as he pulled off his shirt and wrapped her legs to cover her, "Are an atrocity."

…

'He was just saying that, he didn't mean to dodge the L-word. He was just saying that, he didn't mean to dodge the L-word…' Pyrrha chanted within her mind as she aimlessly wandered the town 'round Cinder's manor. 'Stop it, girl, he wants to take this relationship slow, he didn't mean to… Pyrrha, stop looking for him! You can survive for an hour without him. Coco's shop is just over there, go thank her for the dress, properly, now.'

As she drew near the door of Coco's shop, she heard the argument, "I don't see why you're complaining, the entire region could see how much you enjoyed my design."

"That, Coco," Jaune's scolding voice replied, thoroughly trapping her attention, "Was too bold. Yes, I enjoyed the design, but, I did not enjoy that it was Pyrrha being so publicly displayed."

Warmth bloomed as his words soaked into her heart. 'He really didn't design it…' Determination snapped her back into focus. 'We've already mated several times, but he still wants to try pacing things slowly, meaning he earnestly wants things to work out between us. He seems to want me to bear his children, meaning he looks to the future. He does not appreciate my being publicly displayed, meaning I'm more than a bedmate to him, already…' Sparks bloomed in her heart. 'I'm more than a bedmate to him…'

"Now, I do realize that you'd little time to craft the dress, so I'll stop my squalling. However, just in case she needs formal wear again…" Pyrrha's heart skipped a beat. "I'll need two dresses, one combat ready, and one for elegance." Pyrrha ignored the odd looks her giddy dance was earning her.

"Alright, what did you have in mind?" Coco's voice was cautious.

"Keep with the design, I really did love it. However, with the combat variant, bring the skirt halfway to her knees and double stitch every seam." I hope you realize I'll be keeping the original to reward you. Pyrrha thought to him.

"Leave her back and shoulders exposed?" Coco's tone was mischievous.

"Please." He chuckled, "Now, as for the other dress, bring the skirt to her ankles and keep the upper half the same. I'll have both in the same silk as the one you made for last night, you name the price."

"Six hundred Lien." Highway robber.

"Done." 'I'd thought Lien was worth something…'

"Wait, you're serious?" Coco's voice matched Pyrrha's surprise.

"Well, if you'd prefer three…"

"Shut up! I'll take the six." Pyrrha held a hand against her giggles.

"You're sure? I would easily settle for two…" Pyrrha knew that tone very well…

"Six."

"That's one word, so I guess that'll be one…"

"I'll. Take. Six. You. Smug. Jackass." 'You might imagine how he is in bed…' Pyrrha blushed at her own thought.

"Done, but only because you're the best." Six dull thuds landed on Coco's counter.

"…Unless you're in town within the next fortnight, the dresses will be done when next you pass through. Now, get out of my shop, I have work to do." Coco's voice blended honey and malice perfectly.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Pyrrha ducked behind the nearest corner, hoping the ripple from her vanishing wasn't noticed, only to feel her blush rise as she remembered she was still clothed. Jaune seemed not to notice her, until he said over a shoulder, "Go get your measurements taken."

"What happened to taking things slowly?" She blurted breathlessly, he pausing mid-step, turning.

"Well, if you don't want the dresses…" Jaune began, sly grin spreading, before Pyrrha spun and darted into Coco's shop.

…

Need it be said, how the seventh hour that night was an eventful one?

…

…

…

As the sun began peeking over the horizon, Cinder embraced Blake and Jaune. "I know you won't listen, but try to be safe out there, I do worry about you two…"

"I'll keep an eye on them, you needn't worry as much." Pyrrha promised as she embraced Cinder. "May the Ancestress watch over you, Cinder."

"And luck to you, Pyrrha." Cinder hugged Pyrrha tightly. "You mind yourself, too. These two don't bat an eye at danger, mind your own judgment, not theirs, and bring them both back to me."

"I will." She kissed Cinder's brow. "Serve well, my friend."

"I will." She huffed a laugh, "Now get going, before I keep you three here like a mother hen."

"Yes, Mother." Blake and Jaune chimed, grinning, before embracing her again, then turning and setting a brisk pace, Oobleck, unbound and shouldering a pack, at the lead.

 **Sooo… Questions? Comments? Howls of rage at my ancestors because they never taught me how to properly manage a wombat farm? Preorders of organic whole wombat milk? All the above and more can be posted to the reviews section! See Y'all in the next update!**


	10. Chapter 10

As they made camp that night, Pyrrha guarding Oobleck as Jaune and Blake prepared supper, Oobleck asked, "Why does the air ripple when you perform a miracle?"

"It's called 'Weaving', basically, when I Weave, I pull against the strings of existence to rearrange them, then let them snap straight. If the new arrangement is solid, the air ripples and the change takes effect. If not, nothing happens and I start anew."

"You'd said that your Ancestress first Wove by gathering ingredients that glow, would you mind explaining that?" Oobleck had sat on the ground, folding his legs oddly, placing his ankles on the top of his folded knees, a pose that seemed difficult to move from quickly.

"Weaving is divided into different Pools. My specialties are Healing, and Combat. Healing, obviously, utilizes herbs and other natural ingredients, as well as different massage techniques. At need, the right ingredients glow, in precisely the right measure needed, but only when fresh. As herbs dry out, potency is lost, and the ingredient loses viability. We haven't bothered trying to preserve potency because we usually stay at the village. I am the first to travel this far from home since my Grandmother in her youth." She stretched her neck. "What are you doing with your legs?"

"'The Lotus,' something I'd seen in a book of exercises during one of my digs." He chuckled, "Apparently, the Ancients practiced something called 'Yoga' for grace, flexibility, and peace of mind. However, I actually wound up hurting myself often while trying to learn it, seeing as I'd only pictures and no actual instructor to guide me. That is a beautiful sword, can you weave with it?" Oobleck asked as he plucked at a blade of grass.

"That's called Bladesong, from the Combat Pool of Weaving. All Weaver swords are forged similarly to this one, blade, handle and all from a single billet of steel. When the wielder flicks her wrist, the blade rings. Combat Pool amplifies and manipulates the effect of the waves sound travels in, similar to how Healing extracts and amplifies the effects of the ingredients used." She turned Miló in her fingers, the light sparkling from where Crocea Mors had shaved steel from the blade.

…

…

…

"Here it is, the Pit of the Dead." Oobleck announced as they crested the peak of a pass.

As the name implied, an enormous pit, a league across, stretched before them, filled near to the brim with decaying relics of ages long past.

"How did this pit get carved?" Blake asked, noting the perfect roundness of the bowl.

"The Ancients discovered a process for turning any material into pure light, apparently both a means of powering their constructs and one of their greatest weapons. During some apocalyptic battle, one of said weapons was unleashed. This, per an old map I found, was once where a mountain stood, now, it remains a scrap yard, a fitting memorial, I think." He began treading the gentle slope into the pit, "Right this way."

"Is it safe?" Pyrrha asked.

"I've never been harmed, however, keep your eyes open, considering how this was a dumping ground, the piles occasionally shift as things rot. Also, mind your feet, there are sinkholes."

"You've an odd definition of 'Safe'…"

"As I'd said, I haven't been harmed… yet." He paused and turned to them, "I can't just go and collect it, because, well…" He held aloft his maimed wrist. "I know this place screams of ambush, but no one stays here for long because of how dangerous it is here, and no one is stupid enough to try fighting among these ruins. Now please, follow me, and try to step only where I step."

"Pyrrha, would you be so kind as to vanish and scout ahead?" Jaune suddenly piped. At her knowing look, "I've merely an odd feeling."

"I'm certain you do." Pyrrha purred as she vanished, then shrugged off her satchel and peeled off her clothes.

"Don't get any ideas." He warned as he took her things. "If you've news, tap my arm and whisper it to me." He stooped after feeling her tap his arm.

"Try not to think of how I'm absolutely naked right now." She gently purred in his ear, drawing a growl from him.

"You're an atrocity." He smelled as her scent faded with her giggles, then followed Oobleck and Blake into the pit.

…

As Oobleck slowly picked his way into the pit, Blake asked, "What could possibly have piqued your fascination enough that you're so willing to brave all this so regularly?"

"When I was a boy, I heard, what seemed to me, no end of tales of the ancient world and the wonders therein. Truth be told, I only brave this place because I've found no end of fascinating trinkets, some even remain active, like the artifact I showed you at the mansion. Speaking of which would you mind handing it back to me? I need it to more accurately navigate the ruins."

"I finally managed to translate enough of their runes that I could use this to navigate these ruins, however, seeing as I've been scrounging these ruins for five years, the point was somewhat moot, however, it did lead me to the particular relic we're headed to."

"The skyboat?"

"The term is actually 'Airship', but yes." He turned a corner and pointed to a crevice. "There, I'll go first." Jaune laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Wait. Pyrrha, your turn."

…

One of the perks of vanishing is, of course, passing through solid objects like smoke. Though, Pyrrha usually hated when she had to pass her head through walls, but was glad for the odd Lifesight it grants her, for she saw no signs of anything alive within the cavern beyond the crevice. Although, far beneath and away she noted a cluster pf people.

As she passed through the walls and stood before Jaune, she reached forth with a hand, lightning crackling along her skin as she touched his arm. "The cavern itself is clear, although I sense a group near enough to consider, though they are far enough I'm not concerned. Do you want me to investigate?"

"Yes, be safe." He whispered back, and leaned down to kiss her.

"I will," She kissed him, then whispered, "Darling."

"Slower." He gently warned, drawing her giggles before she darted away and swam downwards towards the sparks of life she'd seen.

After Jaune motioned for him to proceed, Oobleck led the way into the cavern. After the trio's sight adjusted to the paltry lighting of the cavern, he chuckled with satisfied amusement as Jaune and Blake gaped at the form of what seemed to be the prone form of a gargantuan hollow whale.

…

"Now, if you'll note the size of this bag and the seeming frailty of the supporting skeleton, what conclusions could we reach as to the intended purpose?" Oobleck bore the groans he'd earned.

"That it was meant to store something very large, yet very gentle." Blake groaned.

"Precisely, now, feel the fabric of the bag, how light it is." He hefted a flap of the bag and handed it to them. "How durable must it have been, to last a millennium of neglect so intact."

"Are you trying to punish us?" Jaune kept his temper in check, he had been rather harsh towards Oobleck, and here was proof of his mettle.

"Apologies, I find these artifacts so fascinating, and so rarely have company to display them too. Besides, the hole the stone resides in can only be seen during a certain time of the day, so I'm also passing time until then."

"A moment." Blake asked, then drew a small iron casket from her pack and opened it, revealing an assortment of gems nestled in leather and an odd silver cup fastened to a strap. "The stone will be black, yes?"

"I remember it so." Oobleck looked on curiously as Blake selected a diamond the size of a pea and pressed it into the center of the cup, looking away as she moved her finger and a brilliant light burst forth. "Dust! I should have known." He chirped, then walked over to a door set on a corner and slid it into the wall as Jade fastened the strap 'round her brow. "Right this way."

…

As she swam through the twisted jumble of crumbling relics, Pyrrha began feeling an odd itch…

…

As Oobleck led the way down a darkened hallway, he asked, "Do all Huntsmen carry those gems?"

"No, they release a shockwave when dropped onto stone or iron. We aren't sure if that's intentional or not."

"Intentional, I suspect. Here we are." Oobleck slid another door into the wall and stepped into a room.

Blake maneuvered to light the way, then accused, "You said it'd be black." In the center of the room, an enormous gemstone of every color glowed softly in the darkness.

"That's the navigation system, the stone that blighted me is actually a few rooms further." He added softly, "You're the one with the torch, if you wish to take your time, I don't mind."

Blake stepped softly to the side of the sphere and marveled at the shifting pattern of emerald, ruby and sapphire that so beautifully mimicked landscape. "They used this to navigate?"

"Yes, it's as accurate a map as you'll ever see."

"How? The details are so small…" Blake reached out and stroked the sphere, which felt smooth as satin, despite the rough landscape, and gasped as it spun on its axis.

"Stroke two fingers in opposing directions."

Blake squeaked with glee as the landscape within the gem seemed to rise to meet her gaze. "Have you tried showing this to anyone else?" She kept sweeping at the surface of the gem, almost dancing with glee.

"…Another object, once, long ago. It's why you're the first I've allowed to follow me in two years."

"Did they steal something?"

"I wish that was all..." Oobleck heaved a sigh. "They didn't heed me, wandered off, and found a sinkhole the hard way…"

…

The itch had turned to a nearly unbearable burning, but Pyrrha pressed on, and broke through the last layer of debris, hearing, "Adam, we've done it!"

…

As they passed through the last door, Oobleck pointed with his remaining hand. "See where the floorboards are shattered?"

"Of course." Blake strode to the side of the hole and knelt, then, "How deep was the hole when you saw it?"

"An arms' length, why?" Oobleck joined Blake beside the hole. "Wha-"

"RUUUUUNNN!" Pyrrha's scream split their ears as the earth began to quake…

 **I'll spoil it: there's a sale on shoes at the mall.**

 **You believe me, right?**

 **You totally should.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I love all 50 of y'all who are following this story and am honored by the 20 of you who have favorited my work here. This lights a fire in my gut to crank out more chapters for you all, but aside from a handful of you I don't have a clue what you all actually think of what I'm building here. Seriously, throw some reviews my way, I wanna know what's bouncing around your heads when you're done reading my work.**

"This way!" Pyrrha shouted as the others burst from the crevice, then dove under the ground to scout for sure footing, a hand the size of a house bursting from the ground a mere arrow's flight away…

…

Jaune's mind was empty of any thought, save for his gratitude at Pyrrha's safety…

…

As Pyrrha burst from under the soil, she watched as another hand tore free of the relics of the pit, both hands scraping at the prison of debris that trapped whatever horror they belonged to. It may have only been the dirt, but the hands seemed painted to match a mountainside…

…

"This way!" Oobleck suddenly tore down an alleyway towards an odd-looking wagon, whose wheels where wrapped with enormous belts on either side. "This will be faster than on foot, if the power core still works." He opened a panel and slipped his obsidian slab into a slot, shouting, "Ursa, activate!"

…

Thank the Ancestress for Oobleck's odd wagon, which screamed along at a pace a galloping horse would covet. As she looked between mounds of rubble, her heart shattered at the sight of the headless monstrosity that sat up from the pit, rubble shaking free, as its shoulders turned towards them, the ground shaking as the monstrosity tore its legs free and rolled onto its hands and knees, crawling after them at a pace far slower than theirs, save it's not being hindered by rubble.

Looking ahead, she saw the terrible distance between them and the open ground outside the pit and looked to Jaune. "We'll be alright, Oobleck's wagon is faster than that."

"Provided he can maintain the pace." He replied grimly, then sighed. "Either way, stay vanished until we know the danger has passed."

"You could just say the L-word." Pyrrha said lightly.

"It's on my mind." Sparks bloomed in Pyrrha's heart at the small smile Jaune graced her with.

"When we're done here," Blake teased, "be sure to pick up some sap at the market, you just used our stock.", then yelped as Pyrrha darted a moistened finger into her ear.

…

Glad as he was to finally test the Ursa's ability, Oobleck felt his heart shatter with every resounding crash from whatever was chasing them, knowing full well its every movement removed any hope of studying whatever artifacts had been crushed. Still, by the looks of things, his years of bliss where over as soon as he'd laid eyes on that stone…

He snapped himself back to the present and the two lives (he'd no idea where Pyrrha was) in the box on the back of the Ursa. If nothing else, a life was worth every treasure in the pit, and he was glad to be saving two.

…

Jaune looked back to the great beast that was chasing them and snarled to see as it rose to its enormous feet, its pace more than doubled by the prodigious stride. "Oobleck! Faster! Pyrrha, is there anything you can do?" Jaune looked where he's last heard her voice. "Pyrrha?"

"I'd say she's already working." Blake replied, looking to the monstrosity.

…

Pyrrha leapt off the wagon and sank into the ground, looking for whatever spark of life this monstrosity housed. Seeing six, she swam through the rubble into a foot as it landed with a resounding crash, then began swimming and climbing through the clockwork toward a small cavern within its thigh, then paused, rubbing her hands together until a new wisp sprung into being, whispering, "Eat whatever you can, as fast as you can, melt what you can't." Then kissed the wisps forehead, causing her to swell to the size of a small child. "Now, go."

…

A fiery blast tore a section from the monstrosity's leg, staggering it and slowing its pace by a third. It was still gaining, but now they had time. "That's my lass."

…

As she passed through the last wall between her and the people within the monstrosity, Pyrrha noted how five of them sat in chairs with odd belts holding the trunks of their bodies in place and one stood within a harness, each movement, she saw through the massive window, matched by the monstrosity. One of them spoke, "Hah! Those Huntsmen are nothing against the Paladin! Right as always, Adam."

"Reign your joy, Fennec. You felt the explosion in the leg as much as I. After we kill the Huntsmen, we're doing a thorough diagnostic of the entire construct. It won't do at all for the Paladin to self-destruct when we face Beacon for real." The man that had spoken returned to the odd lights on the sphere in front of him.

Pyrrha couldn't help herself, saying aloud, "I'm afraid I've been somewhat isolated, why are we killing these people?" As the people controlling the monstrosity screamed in shock and terror, she wasn't sure how she managed not to laugh…

…

The monstrosity's entire body shook, missed a step and ground to a halt. "That woman. You can slow your pace, Oobleck, that monstrosity has stopped."

"Understood, but I'm still getting us out of here."

…

Somehow, someway, Pyrrha kept silent as the blubbering men scrambled to explain and fell hilariously short of anything a sane mind could sort out. _I love being a menace_.

"SILENCE!" One of them suddenly roared, the others falling silent. He looked towards the top of the chamber, saying, "Lady of the Paladin, I am Adam. It is my birthright to rule these lands, and Beacon stands in the way of my rightful rule. With your aid, I would mend that."

"Why would you want to rule? People manage themselves well enough when left be."

"Because, milady, people need direction, leadership, purpose. I intend to provide that." This Adam explained, as if to a child.

"Last I checked, a person needed to find that for themselves for it to benefit them." All mirth had gone. "Why is your will superior to their own?"

"Because, milady, I am superior." He really seemed to mean it. The way he held his head, his puffed-out chest, he really meant it. Pyrrha took a step towards him, then reached out, her fingers passing through his brow like smoke.

"You would use me as a weapon, then abandon me like a broken sword. Why should I help you?" Judging by the way his face twitched, this Adam didn't care to debate.

"Milady, you were built as a weapon of war, I am merely restoring your purpose."

"What if I wished to build? Or pick pretty trees as you would flowers?" She bristled at Adam's scoff.

"You're a weapon of war. You do not perceive beauty."

"I perceive, that the man you would have me kill pleases my sight more than you." Adam turned white as snow with rage.

"It heartens me, then, that we've a manual override for your cheek." He looked to the man in the harness, "Corsac, resume pursuit, double your pace, and turn her petty man's face into a red stain under her foot."

"Move and I kill you." Weavers, when vanished, are harmless. Except, however, for the small copper medallion they keep tied into their hair, enchanted to vanish when they did. Pyrrha freed hers, clutching it between her fingers.

"Please, you're only a voice to warn against malfunction, it's the pilot that has the true authority here. Corsac, move."

"Malfunction this." Pyrrha stepped to Corsac and held the medallion between his neck bones, then released it for a moment, the medallion becoming solid again, snatching it back as Corsac died instantly from the wound within his spine…

…

Suddenly, the monstrosity collapsed, the earth quaking beneath them on impact. "She's done it!" Jaune snatched Blake in an embrace, both laughing madly in triumph. Suddenly, with an earsplitting blast they were thrown against the front of the box of Oobleck's wagon, and watched as he and the rest of the wagon tumbled into a sinkhole, as they skidded to a stop just short of the edge…

…

As he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, Oobleck looked to the sky and saw a cloud. Tears flowed freely, and his heart soared… as all… faded… to black…


	12. Chapter 12

As fun as it usually was to float from great heights while vanished, Pyrrha wished her decent was faster, the chance of saving Oobleck was dwindling with every moment. As she finally pierced the ground, her heart sank to see Oobleck's spark already extinguished. Still, she'd snatched him from death before...

As she passed through the walls of the sinkhole, her heart dropped again, when she saw his neck broken, a wound beyond her power to repair. "I'm sorry, Bart, I can't save you this time." She returned to solidity, glad for the peaceful smile upon his still face. "I saw what you did. Thank you, so much, for saving my Jaune for me." She leaned down, and kissed his brow, then closed his eyes, "Ancestress, please, guide him to a blissful afterlife…"

…

Adam woke, glad the Ancients had designed the pilot chamber to rotate as needed, then cut himself free of his restraints. Finding his legs wouldn't heed him, he dragged himself towards Corsac's dangling corpse, hoping the spirit of the Paladin had died with the rest of his crew…

…

"Stop pacing, Jaune, she'll turn up." Already, Jaune had worn a line in the dirt.

"I don't know the extent of her abilities, I don't know if she survived whatever means she used to bring that monstrosity down."

"Exactly, you don't know the extent of her power, she's just taking her time getting back here. Besides, that monstrosity did fall a ways away, even at a dead run, she wouldn't have made it here by now." As Jaune kept pacing, Blake stood and grabbed his arm. "Jaune."

"It's not just Pyrrha, Blake, the world is changing in ways that have me frightened. First, a woman that bends reality itself, then, black diamond that eats flesh and mind alike, now, iron monstrosities with strides to step over mountains!" He looked Blake in the eye, "At this rate, you know they'll awaken. They'll come back."

Blake looked to the ground for a time, then, "…They're already back, Jaune." She said quietly, eyes glistening, "I was there when Tyrian went rogue, but it was a Scentless One that killed him, not me." A tear fell from her eye, "I didn't tell anyone, because I'd hoped it was isolated, but they're already back."

"Who's back?" Pyrrha asked when she was on solid ground again.

"Beings that should stay where they belong, lost in the tides of time." Jaune was playfully slow in handing Pyrrha her things back, as she knew he would be. "Blake," He said, turning, "Return to Beacon, tell them everything that happened here and with Tyrian, I'll hear that tale, later. Pyrrha and I will return to her village and see if Glynda knows of what blighted Oobleck."

Suddenly, the ground shook again, a voice like a thunderclap sounding, "Where are you, Huntsmen?!" The shoulders of the monstrosity peeked over the piles of relics, "There you are! Thanks for standing so still, I'd hate to have to cut a swath of destruction just to find you again. Though, I'll be doing that anyway!"

…

His legs worked again, though, if not for the pilot harness, he would not be standing to control the Paladin. "Well, Paladin? How shall I kill my little pets?" As he chuckled, a deep, metallic voice rang out.

"Sir, all weapons systems have decayed beyond permissible use. However, there is a rocket assisted leap function still available. If you can stand, I will begin countdown."

 _That's more like it._ Adam smirked as the insufferable construct bent to his will.

…

As they turned and ran, Pyrrha tossed Jaune her bag and shouted, "I brought it down once, I'll do it again!" Then knelt, running her hands from her ankles to her hips, Weaving strength into her legs, and leapt towards the Paladin as it regained its feet...

…

"Sir, all rocket motors ready. Shall I begin countdown?"

"Begin ignition sequence, I want full power on my word." Adam knelt, then, "Now!" and leapt for all his worth…

…

As she sailed through the air, the Paladin knelt, then, with a volcanic roar, a cloud spread from its legs and back, and it leapt well above Pyrrha's own flight, the wind of its passing sending her tumbling through the air…

…

Suddenly, there was a thunderous roar, and a resounding crash as the ground shook hard enough to knock Jaune from his feet, despite his balance. He turned, terror freezing him to his core as he saw the monstrosity standing over them, their head start for nothing. Then, it drew back its mountainous fist, elbow high like an arrogant youngling in a brawl, and Jaune scoffed as he regained his footing…

…

Blake knelt, waiting for it, eyes closed and peace in her heart. She had lived well, she'd saved lives and brought peace to many, even those she'd no choice but to fight, whom she'd never killed. She was ready for whatever adventure her death would bring, and glad for what her life had given her. Darkness fell, the earth shook with a resounding crash…

…

…Blake's ears split with Jaune's howl of rage and pained defiance. Blake opened her eyes, and saw Jaune, gripping the monstrosity's fist with a grasp that cracked its armored hide, before pops rang through the air, Jaune's howl growing an edge of madness as muscles within his arms, legs and trunk tore free of bone, and he fell to his knees as the fist lifted back into the sky…

…

Pain, lots of pain. His pain was in pain. He knew nothing else but the pain that dripped from every fiber of his being. He looked up to the sky, and saw the beautiful, beautiful copper hair, and the beautiful, beautiful face it framed that screamed his name, and the pain was nothing, for there was only her…

…

Pyrrha watched as his eyes shut, trembling at the thought of being left behind, when she heard a crack of thunder, a thump, and the strangest energy filled her bones.

"Well, now." A voice said, "Late, but in the nick of time." Pyrrha looked to the strange man, saw as his hands swiveled from his wrists and an ominous hum filled the air. A glow flooded from the holes in his open wrists, he looked to the descending fist of the Paladin, then, faster than her eyes could track, his arm snapped forward, and a flood of pulsing energy tore through the entire length of the Paladin's arm, shredding and blasting it away.

As the Paladin stumbled backward, the stump on its left shoulder glowing orange, the man looked to Pyrrha. "Pardon me, be right back." Then leapt higher than even Pyrrha thought possible towards the Paladin, lances of power arcing from his wrists through its belly, leaving glowing holes as wide as Jaune was tall clean through in an even line from one side to the other. As the man began to fall towards the ground again, the Paladin caught him in its titanic remaining fist with a clap like thunder, only to have its torso torn clean off by the hand's sudden yank and thrown beyond the horizon, the legs and hips falling to the ground, lifeless.

…

Gravity manipulation was a tricky thing to figure out, but when they cracked that code it was among the greatest breakthroughs of scientific history. Many, many uses, like the repellant field Flynt was using to prevent himself from getting crushed, at the same time locking himself in his exact location in space. Seeing as the earth travels more than a hundred thousand miles per second in its orbit (and seeing as it was the correct time of day) he stayed put while the earth continued to move in its orbital arc, leaving him and whatever chunk clung to him behind.

After he had waited three seconds he juiced up his repellant field-tearing open the hand of the 396 "Paladin Praetor Centurion" MECH(Oam, that name grated his soul), then surveyed how much he'd brought with him.

It was a pleasantly shocking amount.

He knew he'd brought the hand with him, but the wrist should NOT have held. The elbow should NOT have held. The shoulder should NOT have held.

Though, he was pleased to see everything above the cut he'd made through the waistline had tagged along, too. Impressed as he was with his own design work from more than a millennium before, Flynt scowled, remembering how hard he'd fought against building the damn thing in the first place. Simple fact was, the budget they'd thrown into building 396 in the first place could have put an armored exoskeleton on every soldier his nation had once had. Morale was the only thing 396 ever excelled at. With a familiar ball of disgust in the pit of his stomach, Flynt loaded a uranium pellet into the ionizing chamber of his right plasgun. One shot later proved all 396 ever could have been was a one thousand five-hundred-ton cheerleader.

…

Adam thought nothing, felt nothing. Whatever had just happened, he had no words to describe. How, ever, could he convey what he'd just seen? First, a flesh and blood man had CAUGHT the punch of one of the mightiest constructs the Ancients had ever built, then, another man had so thoroughly thrashed the Paladin in ways he couldn't comprehend. An entire arm, just… gone. Then, he'd torn the Paladin in two as if it was a bug… How?!

The wall of the pilot chamber burst open, the man who'd torn apart the Paladin as if it was a doll striding in, body glowing a livid orange, then, reaching out, his fingers melted through the harness, the stench of the cloth filling the air as Adam fell to the floor at the man's feet. "Round… Two?" At Adam's silence, "Didn't think so."

…

Pyrrha pressed her fingers under Jaune's jawline, her heart starting again as she felt his feint heartbeat. She took his dagger from his boot and gently cut his shirt from his chest, heart shattering at the sight of nearly every muscle out of place under his hide. "He's alive, but it's very fortunate he's out cold…"

"Is there anything you can do?" Blake asked, trembling at the sight of her friend's ruined body.

"No, my Grandmother, perhaps, but he's beyond my power to save." Pyrrha's sight blurred, and she swept away her tears. "If we move him, we're more likely to make it worse than better, I have no guarantee my Grandmother can mend him, and by the time she could get here his muscles will have started to heal wrong…"

Suddenly, thunder filled the air again and the man landed nearby. "Sorry I'm late, wasn't sure you needed my help." Then he was at Jaune's side. "Lucky he didn't get worse, all things considered." He looked to Pyrrha, chuckling. "Shame he's missing the view." Drawing a crimson blush from her as she vanished, he turning serious before the ripple touched him.

"My body is for HIS eyes, only." She said, her blush spreading to her chest. "Now, is there anything you can do for him, or are you merely a destroyer?" She looked to Blake and saw her turning as pale as the dead. Suddenly, she heard a thump, and looked as the man had opened his shirt, pried open his chest and drew a small bottle from a rack within his body.

"Half the point of my bein' here ma'am." He gave the top of the bottle a twist, opening it, then poured the potion within into Jaune's mouth. "Now, this will look very strange to you, but you'll have to trust me." Suddenly, his left hand began to glow cherry red, the air dancing from the heat, then, his palm split open, threads thinner than hairs sprouting forth. With his other hand, the man reached within his chest again and drew another bottle with a sponge at the opening, which he pinched, a small crackle sounding, then began swabbing iodine at the center of Jaune's chest. "Good thing no skin was broken, makes surgery a lot simpler." Then, he laid his right hand where he'd cleaned Jaune's hide, the threads slipping underneath, and Jaune's muscles began returning to their proper place.

As Pyrrha's heart began beating again, she heard a choked sob from Blake. As she looked to Blake, Pyrrha saw the tears running in streams along her cheeks. "Blake," She startled at Pyrrha's voice, "What's wrong?"

"Last I saw a Scentless One," She whispered, "they killed another man I loved…"

* * *

 **In case it isn't clear, the Paladin is roughly 40% Pacific Rim scale.**

 **Anyway, questions and comments are welcome in the reviews and pms, even if it's just a "MOAR NEOW" I'll take it. Seriously, I wanna hear from y'all!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Tsuyo no seishin pointed out a couple of things that genuinely would have maimed this story moving forward, so a rewrite of this chapter seemed mandatory. Hope you all don't mind, my apologies to the hundred or so of you that found some spoilers.**

Pyrrha spun, hand darting to the medallion in her hair, tearing it free, then lunged toward the man, thrusting the medallion towards his neck, only to feel it skitter across his hide as if he was made of porcelain. The man blurted, "Wuzzat?"

"Blake, either he's immune to my power, or he means us no harm." Pyrrha desperately hoped he was friendly…

"What if he is immune?" Blake's voice trembled.

"Blake, look, he's putting Jaune's muscles back in place. All he has to do is arrange them correctly and I'll be able to mend him in seconds." Drawing an odd look from the man. "If he meant us harm, he would have let us die beneath that thing's fist."

"Ma'am, I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to cloak yourself from all scanning tech. Now, Blake, was it?" She flinched as he turned to her. "Ma'am I'm sorry for your loss, but if your friend was killed by a-What'd you call me? Scentless One? I dig it, got a ring to it- anyway it wasn't for fun. He did something seriously wrong to hurt a lot of people and death was the only way to stop him."

For a time, Blake was silent, then, "I'm sorry, his death was justified, it's just…"

"I have that effect." The man smiled gently and waited.

"…It was just another day, me, minding my patrols, when I saw the smoke, and ran towards the farmhouse I knew was burning, hoping to aid the family that lived within." She shuddered, "The first thing I saw, was the daughter, a girl of seven winters, running, crying and stumbling towards me, clutching the stump that remained of her right arm. She'd nearly reached me as I ran to her, when her eyes rolled into her skull, and she fell forward, a dagger between her shoulders…"

The man waited a moment, then, "I wouldn't bother with a blade…"

Blake nodded, "It was Tyrian, once my dearest friend, even over Jaune. Now, his eyes shown rabid madness. His eyes danced with glee as I cradled the girl in my arms, tears flooding my cheeks. He drew his Flamberge from his back and brandished it, asking me to play…" Tears flooded anew, "I fought for my life against the last man I'd ever expected to, a man who I'd once hoped to spend my life with, even as I traded blows with him… even now…"

She collapsed on some nearby rubble. "He gained the upper hand, and I watched, beaten to pulp, as his blade descended towards me, then was knocked from his grasp and the ground shook from some terrific impact. I turned, and a woman, smaller than me and with hair like snow, stood from the bowl her landing had carved into the ground. Tyrian dove for his Flamberge, bringing it to bear as she was already upon him. He swung, and she didn't bother dodging, letting his blade crash full force into her willfully exposed neck, didn't budge as the shock rattled Tyrian's arms to the bone.

"She kicked him square in his torso, sending him flying through the air, leaping after him, catching and throwing him to the ground, a blow that nearly broke him. In body, not spirit. She waited politely as he gathered himself and stood, then caught his blade as he swung at her again, her hand glowing as yours did, and the mythril of his Flamberge burst into white flame, forcing him to discard it. Again, she waited patiently as he attacked again and again with his daggers, never budging as a man three times her weight brought all his might to bear in an endless onslaught that would have cut a mother bear to ribbons…" Pyrrha sat behind Blake and gently cradled her as she sobbed, but, before Pyrrha could console her, Blake continued.

"I blinked, and her arm was buried to the elbow in his chest and Tyrian's face twisted in shock and agony, then went slack as she pulled her hand free, letting him fall to the ground…"

Blake bit her lip, "Her arm glowed again, smoke billowing as Tyrian's blood burned off, then she blew the ashes from her arm, then, faster than I could track, I was in her embrace, she cradling as she told me, 'It wasn't your fault, my child. It wasn't your fault."

"…I simply woke some days later, in a bed within a shelter made by the slain family, who were alive and well, to my eternal relief. Strangely, they began telling me of how they'd seen a terrible duel where I'd saved them from a feral Tyrian, slaying him but being beaten to pulp in the process, then, exhausted, collapsing unconscious for days."

For a while, the man said nothing, then, "You shouldn't remember any of that."

"What are you?" Blake asked quietly.

"It was my job to keep that thing from ever getting up again. I owe you only one favor, I figure you'd prefer to have me patch up your friend instead of giving you answers."

"How long until you have mended Jaune?" Pyrrha asked warily.

"Pretty much done, don't let him move for at least a day, his muscles are going to take at least that long to heal properly, in the meantime I'll keep a bird's eye view so that you can rest safely." He lifted his hand from Jaune's chest, threads slipping back into his palm, then stood, "My work here is done, any last questions?"

"How can we contact you?" Blake asked.

"You won't." Then, the man knelt and leapt straight up into the sky.

…

When he was out of sight, Pyrrha put her clothes back on, and appeared again, then went to her satchel and unpacked her mortar and pestle, selected the appropriate herbs, ground them together, added a small amount of water, a tremor rippling as she stirred with the pestle. Then, she went to Jaune and gently pulled him into her lap, then tilted his head back and gently poured the potion into his mouth, Jaune gasping awake as the last drop of potion slid past his lips.

Surging to his feet, he looked frantically about and saw the severed hips, and legs of the monstrosity, "What happened here?" He turned to Pyrrha. "How did you do that?"

Blake and Pyrrha shared a knowing glance, then Pyrrha quipped, "Weaving."

…

Thousands of feet above them, Flynt scoffed in amused disbelief at the raw evidence the blood nannies he'd left in Jaune reported. "'The enemy of my learning,'" he quoted, "'Is my knowledge.'"

…

Adam stumbled through the pit, unheeding of the hazards around him, when a small sinkhole opened under half his foot, tripping him forward into the dirt. He lay there dumbly, as day turned to night. Suddenly, the flesh over his heart erupted as if on fire. Laying still, despite the agony, he cried tears of joy… as the voices set him free…

 **That's probably fine…**

 **Anyway, this is the end of "Season 1" as I'm calling it. I've got a lot more planned, but I haven't written much more so updates may get a bit spotty from now on. One thing that will help is feedback. What have you liked? What can I do better? Am I biffing anything? Please let me know either in reviews and/or sending me a pm.**

 **Hopefully yours for a long while yet, NinjaYacdan.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm NinjaYacdan and I'm… A mobile gamer… Particularly Darkness Rises.**

 **Damn game's cutting into my writing time…**

"I still don't know why she wouldn't tell me what happened between her and Tyrian." Jaune was still grumbling a full day after Blake had left Jaune and Pyrrha's company.

"It might be a painful memory." Pyrrha replied

"I am absolutely certain it would be." Jaune replied, "However, any information of the Scentless One's is worth the bearer's weight in gold."

They trudged along in silence for a time, then Pyrrha asked, "The Scentless One's are the watchers of Beacon, aren't they?"

"That," Jaune replied "would be a wonderful thing to know for certain, as it stands, all I know is they are invincible and untraceable. You were difficult enough, if not for your scent I would have lost you more times than hairs on your head. A Scentless One? When they disappear there's nothing. No scent, no footprints, nothing. As if they drop off the face of Remnant, and to face one in combat is a death sentence, and now you know everything I do of them."

Pyrrha stayed quiet while Jaune marched off his frustration, keeping a gentle trot to keep up with Jaune's angry march.

"At times like this," Jaune growled, "I almost wish for a fight."

Pyrrha pulled him to a stop, "You really fear them so?"

"It is better to fear the unknown." He began slowly, "Than to allow oneself to grow complacent and be caught off guard."

"What usually happens when a Scentless One appears?" Pyrrha asked him quietly

"The tales I know of," he began gently, "Relate only death."

"I suppose," Pyrrha said quietly, "I should remind you that you had heard nothing of my people, and that I and my sisters are harmful only to those who seek to harm us. Perhaps the Scentless Ones that you so fear are the same way."

Jaune took Pyrrha by the arm, gently but firmly, looking her in the eyes said, "Pyrrha, if you know something of the Scentless Ones, I cannot stress how important sharing that knowledge is."

Pyrrha saw the controlled edge of fear in Jaune's eyes, and speaking in a whisper said, "I didn't finish off that construct. A Scentless One did. Then he knitted your muscles back in place and leapt into the sky without harming either Blake or me."

Jaune said nothing, merely studied Pyrrha's face and the pleading in her eyes, then relented. "I wish you would tell me," he said, "but at the same time…" He let go of her arm "We face the dilemma of how little time we've had to know and trust each other."

While his tone was gentle, and she knew that his intent was pure, his words stung. Suddenly a whistle rang through the air, and Jaune's head jerked hard to the side, his hand snatching up, catching the thrown dagger as it passed through the air where his head had been. As Jaune studied the design and balance of the dagger he now held, he said "that would be Lie Ren I believe."

"Pyrrha!" A familiar voice rang out, Jaune and Pyrrha turning to look

"Oh Nora!" Pyrrha moaned, and there Nora stood bouncing with glee, grasping Ren's arm, clad in nothing it would seem but one of his, too large for her, shirts. "I found one!"

…

As the four of them made camp for the night, Ren related the tale of how Nora found him.

"I'd woken that morning," He began, "and immediately I noticed this scent that drove my inner beast, let alone my libido, up a tree. I couldn't find what it was, but it haunted me. I could hardly focus on my patrols, or anything, all day long, but finding what that scent was. My inner beast could hardly decide whether to eat it, or mate with it. You can probably imagine what a poor Huntsman I was that day, with my guard up the entire day, as well as, well, you might imagine. That in mind I tended to stay well away from any populated areas, when at last, when I was well and far away from anyone living, the smell got a great deal stronger. So, there I stood gnashing my teeth with frustration, when I hear a gentle voice from behind me, I turned about and the first thing I noticed was that blazing mop of red hair peeking from behind a tree. How can I help you madam? I asked."

"Are you a Huntsman?" This beautiful but apparently mad woman asked me.

"Among the finest." I replied.

"Just when I thought I had everything in hand, this mad redhead stepped out from behind the tree revealing for all the world to see, that the only thing she had to her name was a sword! Which as I was recovering from swallowing my tongue she then used to attack me! The fight that followed, was the most intense encounter I'd ever had, which as you might imagine, ended with one of the most intense experiences I'd ever had, and as we lay spent, panting but satisfied, I thinking the day couldn't have any more surprises, the same mad woman, began to quite literally lick away every scratch, bruise, and bite mark, which of course began a certain recursive loop. When that finally ended, somehow, I dug into my pack, dug out a set of clothes for myself, because she had shredded my previous set, then I gave her one of my shirts, then I began towards civilization, this mad woman in tow."

"And that's when you ran into us I presume." Jaune said.

"Of course, you'd do something like this, Nora." Pyrrha accused.

"Well what else would I do, after seeing what you'd dragged home?" Nora teased.

"Mad woman." Ren grinned.

"Your woman." Nora said warmly, glowing as Ren took her chin in his hand.

"On my life," he said tenderly, "I'll never know why I'm so gratified."

"I suspect," Jaune said to Pyrrha, "we've broken the dam."

"Woe unto the Huntsmen that cherished their solitude." Ren said, earning a swat from Nora.

…

The next morning as the four of them, Nora now adorned in borrowed clothes from Pyrrha, entered a small town, Ren and Jaune drew up short. "You smell that?" Ren asked.

"Of course," Jaune replied, "Ladies if you'll excuse us, we need to attend to this." Suddenly Jaune and Ren rushed away.

"I wonder what that was about?" Pyrrha wondered aloud, as Nora started towards the village store.

…

Sweat, blood and anger filled Jaune's nose, as he and Ren sprinted towards a very familiar gathering. Twelve men stood in a circle around two shirtless men, whose fists were wrapped with linen. Striving back and forth, heavy blows landing on either side, one was taller than the other, with longer limbs, the other, though shorter, was proportionately thicker, with better timed blows. Both had bruises, cuts, and welts, but neither had any hint of yielding. The circle of men surrounding them cheered them on. Suddenly a man sitting nearby with a time glass, and a large pan struck the metal with a mallet, and the two fighters broke off. With the match ended, one of the spectators looked up.

"Welcome Huntsmen," He said, "feel free to ask your questions."

"No need," Ren replied, "we can see the fight in their eyes. No harm in scratching the itch. We'll just stick around to watch the show, and make sure everyone's playing fair."

"Fair enough," the spectator sniffed.

"Who are the combatants?" Jaune asked mildly.

"The tall one is Miles," the spectator replied, "the short one is Kerry." After a quick breather, the man flipped the time glass, and struck the pan again, and the two men renewed their battle.

…

"So," Pyrrha began, as Nora shopped for clothing, "how did you expect to pay for these new clothes?"

"For the meantime," Nora said as she held a pair of trousers to her waist, "I'm not really looking to buy. Unless I am mistaken, Ren intends to stay in this village for a few days, I expect I will have earned some by then."

"How?"

Nora pointed to the nearby blacksmith shop, "You know my father taught me well, and in a village this size, a smithy can always use an extra hand."

"Remember what your father told you, outside of our village, it is men who do the brawn work, not women."

"A good thing then," Nora smirked, "That any smithy worth his salt values brains more than brawn, although" Nora chided. "You know I have plenty of brawn as well."

"True, though I'll have to see the look," Pyrrha teased, "of the man twice your weight that you'll say that too." So, Nora led the way to the blacksmith shop.

…

Frankly, Jaune was impressed. Neither had been trained as he and Ren had, but both swung hard and true, each blow wrenching a grunt from their opponent. Miles had managed to take a step back, and keep Kerry at a distance, holding him on the defensive. When a wide right from Miles missed its mark, and Kerry grabbed Miles by the elbow, pulling himself in smashing a hard left to his ribs, and then along his jaw, staggering him, then followed with a hard right to Miles' nose, snapping his head back. Kerry pressed his advantage with quick hard blows to the head and body, then with a hard overhand, drove Miles to his knees. Tasting victory, Kerry drew back his fist for the finishing blow, when Ren spoke aloud.

"Enough he's done." Kerry nodded, then wrapped Miles' arm across his shoulders and helped him up, leading him to a table where mugs of mead, and wash basins for both were waiting. Lien chuckled as the gathered men began tossing around pouches of Lien, paying out the bets.

…

Pyrrha could not help her snort of laughter at the face of the blacksmith as Nora hefted the end of the freight wagon, lifting two wheels clear of the ground, "Well," The blacksmith said, "You can lift a wagon, how well can you swing a hammer?" He pointed to a slab of slate covering a portion of the wall. "There are some projects, I have plenty of iron in case you botch it. Now, I need to go run some errands, get some of the jobs done, and you'll have room and board."

The smith took off his apron and hung it on a nail, then grabbed a smaller one and tossed it to Nora, who put it on then rolled up her sleeves, and twisted her hair into a bun, pinning it in place with a long nail she found on the work bench, then turned to Pyrrha, "Fond as I am of your company," Nora said, "I need to focus on my work. That, and I'm curious what Ren and Jaune are up to, make sure to tell me at the end of the day, or at least before you leave."

Pyrrha needn't be told twice, turning to leave Nora to her work to explore the village, unheeding of the small pale girls whose eyes burned with hatred for Nora…

 **May Miles and Kerry forgive me for using their names in a fanfiction…**

 **Anyway, feedback is lifeblood so don't be shy and tell me what you think in reviews.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I am so sorry for the lack of updates! Things have been nuts on my end and I haven't gotten to work on Weaver's Fate as much as I should.**

"So, this is what you've been up to." Pyrrha scolded, as two new contenders strove back and forth in the ring.

"What did you expect?" Jaune replied, smiling at Pyrrha's half sour expression. Pyrrha looked to the two men who were washing their cuts and scrapes, then to Jaune.

"Excuse me," She walked over, pulling her mortar and pestle from her satchel, unraveling them as she went.

…

As Nora worked the bellows, a low, barely audible whistle rang from her lips, a ripple easily mistaken for heat rising from the burning coal in the forge. The forge blazed like a volcano, the iron band inside turning from cold gray to cherry red in mere heartbeats, then she grabbed the cold portion of the iron band and fitted the glowing end between the heavy plates of the smithy's tire bender, and quickly pulled and slid the glowing portion between the plates, as she bent the tire. Then, she set the next section of the band into the forge and began working the bellows again. When the iron was again ready to work, Nora hefted it from the forge and began stepping towards the tire bender, her foot suddenly sliding on a wooden peg that hadn't previously been there.

Nora flicked the peg away, but as her other foot began touching the floor, she shifted it quickly to the side, toppling the standing nail that nearly pierced her foot. Her feet firmly planted, Nora continued working the band in the tire bender, a loud click of her tongue sending a ripple through the room, knocking the small pale girl from her hiding place, and through a scrap bucket that was undisturbed by her passing.

"So," Nora said conversationally, "how did you find yourself trapped here?" To which the girl responded with a snarling hiss, her pale, once pretty face turning rotten, ethereal worms hanging from the flesh, and vanished. "Well," Nora chuckled, "I was dreading a boring day."

…

"Now this is odd." Pyrrha thought, as every man excepting Jaune and Ren had knelt in a low bow to her. She was at a complete loss for words, until she looked to Ren and Jaune as they, grinning ear to ear, made to bow as well, and barked "Don't you dare!"

…

'Patience,' Nora reminded herself as she endured the subtle assault her ethereal nemesis waged against her. Frankly, she was impressed by the ingenuity of her foe, if not for her weaving she would have been crippled, at the very least, by now. As it stood she was managing to genuinely enjoy her game with her assailant, completing project after project efficiently and- to the little girl's obvious chagrin- safely. Suddenly, she heard a clattering thump and turned to see the smith whose jaw hung partially slack as he surveyed the work she'd managed to do during his errands.

"Well," he said, as he shook himself out of his mild stupor. "Usually, any assistance is chased off by the workload." Nora's eyes flicked to the pale little girl, who now had seated herself dutifully on the workbench.

"I can't imagine why," she said conversationally, earning a rude gesture from the ghost.

"Well," the blacksmith continued, "there's half the pay for you if you'll stay on until the list is done." Nora glanced at the portion she'd cleaned from the slab, a chip compared to the remainder, then smiled winningly at the smith who did not notice the ugly glare the little girl gave Nora over his shoulder.

"Deal," she said.

…

Ren and Jaune surveyed the small but growing crowd of villagers, as some came forward with injuries ranging from a splinter in the finger of the merest child to a long accepted infirmity of a village elder, who regarded his rejuvenated fingers with grateful tears in his eyes, as he began to speak, Pyrrha gently interrupted him, saying, "You have already thanked me," Tears of her own beginning to form.

…

"Well," The blacksmith said, "sundown is about the time I usually close shop. You're welcome to invite those Huntsmen you brought into town with you to stay at my place, I've plenty of rooms, it simply means I'll be putting more food on the table."

"Thank you very much." Nora replied, "I suppose I better go fetch them, if they haven't secured other lodgings."

"You did good work today." The smith commented as he hung his apron next to the door. "It's as if you've only to speak for the iron to shape itself."

"I wish," Nora griped, "it will be some years before I master that skill," earning a hearty laugh from the blacksmith.

…

Jaune surveyed the townsfolk, pleasantly noting the sincerity of their gratitude, but still, he was well acquainted with their superstitious nature, and worried about misguided accusations. Though, so far, Pyrrha was being received as if celestial. Which both heartened and worried him, on the one hand because he was unsure if Pyrrha and other Weavers would live up to the reputation he was certain would spread like brush fire, on the other hand he considered their encounter with the horror Adam had raised from the pit of the dead, and what had remained when Jaune had regained consciousness. A chill crawled up his spine at the implications of her power. He was broken from his reverie by Nora's footsteps.

"What's all this?" Nora asked, with cautious humor.

"Well," Ren began, "these townsfolk may have discovered the Patron Goddess of Healing, or they're simply inflating Pyrrha's talents several orders of magnitude out of proportion."

"Ah," Nora chirped, "let me handle this." As she strode forward bobbing and weaving through the townsfolk, each would turn to protest until they noticed her red hair, then, awestruck, they began to clear a path between Nora and Pyrrha.

"This ought to be interesting," Ren murmured to Jaune as relief spread across Pyrrha's face.

"Grand Lady Pyrrha, Goddess of wisdom and balance, guardian of the east plains, bringer of light and warmth, I humbly extend, from the blacksmith of this grandiose settlement, the offer of room and board." It was some time before either Huntsman could stop laughing…


End file.
